


Rotation

by words_unravel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Ice Skating, M/M, reel_1D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 06:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_unravel/pseuds/words_unravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam's last chance comes in the form of a pair of figure skates. Louis's last chance comes in the form of Liam Payne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rotation

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance for my lack of hockey research. Also, I posted this after a 18-hour first day of a convention I run, so please excuse any glaring errors you see. I will do my best to fix them when I can. 
> 
> A massive thank you to my betas, Lauren and Ness. They did the best they could with this mess and any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.

* * *

**Warm-Up**

_All Liam has ever wanted to do is play hockey._

_The second he stepped on the ice that first time, he knew it. Knew it in his head, his heart. Knew it in his bones. They'd all laughed at this scrawny kid, taunted him with cruel looks and words. But if Liam was anything, it was determined. So when that didn't work, the bullies moved on to the physical - sticks to his legs, chest, to his skates. Bruised and winded, Liam just became more focused. He got quicker on the ice, faster with the stick. He started boxing on the side, lifting weights to bulk up._

_The first time Liam had pushed back, one of his 'teammates' ending up on his ass and looking up from Liam's feet, he knew he'd win. No matter what they tried, the words or the fists, Liam knew with his entire being that this was where he was born to be._

_In the end it's that drive, that dedication, which earns him a spot on England's Olympic hockey team. It's the pinnacle of everything Liam's ever thought about or wanted._

_~_

_Louis remembers the first time he ever put on a pair of ice skates. He remembers the long line of his mum's fingers as she carefully tightened each lace, the warmth in her eyes as she looked up at him and smiled. He remembers how gentle her hands were as she led him out on the ice._

_It didn't take long until Louis no longer needed the guiding hands. He took to the ice fiercely, joyfully. There was nothing like the cold sting of the wind on his cheeks as he'd work on his scratch spin, going faster and faster until the world around him was nothing but a blur of color. The sound of the blades through the ice was one of his favorite things, the up-spray as he practiced his stops another one._

_He's dedicated enough time that the whispers of Rick Tuttle's name, eavesdropped from behind closed door conversations between his parents, has got his heart racing. Tuttle's coached Olympic gold medal winners, names that Louis's spent hours devouring, trying to make himself better. To make himself the best._

_Louis's never been more excited in his entire life that in the moment he finishes up skating for Tuttle. He can feel his heart beating out of his chest, the sound of it so loud in his ears he almost doesn't hear the, "Looks like we've got our work cut out for us then."_

_It's the last time Louis really loves being on the ice._

 

**Short Program - 2:30 minutes**

Liam's late.

Liam's late for the Olympics and he's never felt so frantic in his entire life.

 

The pounding on the door wakes him and he blinks blearily at the clock beside his bed. Only it's flashing a red "12:00" back at him. It's right about then that panic starts to set in.

Over the hammering on his door, Liam can hear Zayn yelling. Zayn only yells when things have really gone to shit. Liam nearly brains himself as he struggles against the sheets tangled around his legs. He finally manages to stagger out of bed, grasping for his mobile. It's dead of course. He'd plugged it in to charge, set the back-up alarm and everything. Only it's done no good, with the power having been out for what looks like most of the night.

"Fuck," he mutters, stumbling to the door and throwing it open. Zayn doesn't even look at him as he pushes past Liam into the room.

"Fucking _hell_ , Li, why are you still in bed? Your games starts in less than an hour!" He tosses Liam a pair of jog bottoms from the floor. Liam scrabbles to keep hold of them, finally tugging them on as Zayn continues cursing. "Shoes, Liam. Where are your damned shoes?"

Before Liam can say anything, Zayn's waving it off, "Forget shoes, no time," and throwing a shirt at him.

Liam spots his trainers, half under the bed, and barely manages to grab them before Zayn's got a hand on his arm, dragging him out the door. Just before the door slams shut, Liam shoves a hand back into the room. Zayn glares back at him, not wanting to let go. "My kit. I can't go without my sticks."

A second later, Liam has his badge and his bag and they make the mad dash toward the village. Toward the rink and the game of Liam's life.

*

"Lock your grip! Dammit, Grimshaw, how many times do we have to do this for you to get it right?" Louis hisses quietly. Nick circles to a stop, raising his eyebrow in the way that always makes the corner of Louis's left eye twitch, and says, "Probably about the same time you realize that the sun doesn't shine out your arse, darling."

Before Louis can come back with something witty and cutting - god, Nick is always so infuriating - Tuttle yells across the ice, "Quit sparring with your lover and start skating with your damn _partner_ , Tomlinson!"

The sound of camera flashes increase as Louis skates toward the edge of the rink. It makes the low-level headache Louis's had for the last few hours upgrade a few notches. It feels like a hot poker is trying to make its way through the back of his skull. Louis smiles and ignores it, stopping at the edge of the rink.

Tuttle isn't alone, a number of other coaches are scattered throughout the area, and Louis can feel their eyes on him even though they act like they're not staring. The smile Louis gives his coach feels like it could cut glass, so sharp it almost hurts.

"I would love to skate, _Coach_ ," Louis infuses as much disdain as he possibly can into the word, "however, until your pretentious hipster protege learns how to lock his grip, I'm afraid the sparring is likely to get us in further at this competition."

He can practically hear Nick's eyeroll behind him.

Louis pushes off the wall.

"And for the record, Grimshaw's never been near my dick," he sniffs, "not in a way that counted." He starts moving back from the edge of the rink and then says, loud enough to carry across the ice, "He's more your type anyway, from what I've heard."

Tuttle looks absolutely furious, but Louis doesn't care anymore. The man's an ass and has treated him like a good-for-nothing newbie for the last ten years. Louis's done. He gives the paps the prettiest smile he can and waves as the flashes go off even quicker. A minute later, he's off the ice and getting as far away as possible.

Louis hasn't been this angry in _years_. It feels good, the heat in his blood, the way it races through him. He's so preoccupied, head down, that when he slams into something - into some _one_ \- it's hard enough that he's flat on his bum a second later.

"Were you raised in a barn?" he snaps, glaring.

The boy in front of him is young, broad but lanky. He's got skates hanging from the bag thrown over the back of his shoulder and Louis notes with disdain that they're _hockey_ skates. One of those then. He glares when the boy continues to stand there, staring at him. "Seriously? I've seen farm animals with better manners."

It's completely untrue, of course. Louis's never seen a farm animal, much less been acquainted with one. The other boy must think he's full of crap too because he raises an eyebrow, dubious.

His arse hurts, Louis notes. Running into this kid was like hitting a brick wall and for a second Louis lets himself think about that. He shakes it away though, holding out his hand. He waves it around a second later. "Well?"

The other eyebrow goes up in astonishment and to Louis's surprise, he gets a short, "Sorry, got a game to win and all that, no time for chit chat." It's followed a second later by, "Is this the way to the ice?"

Louis drops his hand. "What?"

That earns him an eyeroll and a muttered, "Never mind," before he strides past Louis and down the hallway. Louis scowls at the floor for a moment, before shoving off the ground with a strangled growl. He's surrounded by arseholes; they're everywhere. He takes off in the direction he was heading originally, before running into that--that _oaf_ of a hockey player, fuming.

He forgets all about the rude hockey player hours later, when he falls in front of thousands of people. When he watches the gold slip out his hands in a matter of seconds.

*

Liam gets about four steps before he turns around. Just because _he's_ messed up, doesn't mean he needs to be rude to someone else. He goes back to apologize, but it's too late.

It doesn't take long for the boy to slip Liam's mind. There are more important things to focus on, like winning his game. And he does win. He plays harder than he's ever played; it's probably the best game he's ever played in his life.

It also turns out to be the last professional hockey game he ever plays.

 

**Free Skate - 4:30 minutes**

Louis can hear his father and Paul arguing behind the closed door of the office. For once he's not actually trying to listen in, just happened to be on his way to the kitchen for a snack. His timing leads him to pull up short when Paul comes through the heavy oak door. The two of them stare at each other.

There's a swirl of unease in Louis's stomach at the look on Paul's face. He looks disappointed, but Louis can see the bit of sadness in the lines around his eyes as he looks at Louis. Over Paul's shoulder, Louis can see his father. He pays him no mind though, Paul's the one that matters. Despite everything Louis's done over the last two years, the words and the attitude, he _knows_ Paul believes in him, that he wants what's best for Louis. Old habits are hard to break however, and Louis can't ever seem to get himself to trust Paul completely.

He arches a brow and Paul sighs, shaking his head. A second later, he walks past Louis and out the front door. Louis keeps his face blank as the door closes, the look in his eyes cool as he glances back at his father.

"What was that about then?"

His father's mouth tightens at Louis's tone. He only offers, "Your last chance, I'm thinking," before he turns and closes the office door, shutting Louis out.

The swirl in his stomach turns into a full blown ache and he can feel the sharp point of headache coming on, but Louis does what he always does and ignores it. He's an expert in dealing with pain by now.

*

Nicola glances up sharply when Liam blows through the doors of the Penalty Box. Liam ignores the loud sigh she sends his way as he slips around the bar, making his way toward the back. "Be a love, Nic, and make me a quick sandwich?" He drops his bag, the faded logo of the Great Britain Olympic team crinkling as it hits the bench. "I've got a game in an hour."

"I need you to help with the bar tonight, Li. Ruth's baby is sick and you know Niall's gone home for a bit, so we're short-handed."

Liam looks up, frowning. "But there's a game tonight. You know I can't miss that."

"It's a local league," she responds. "It's not like you can't leave off a game now and then." Liam is already shaking his head. "And I _really_ need you tonight. Fridays are always mad, you know that."

"I _can't_ , Nic."

His sister cocks her head, frustration in every line of her body. " _Yes_ , you can," she snaps. "You will. Family first, Liam, now that--"

She stops herself before the words actually leave her mouth, but the _you're not playing real hockey_ rings out clearly in the open air of the bar.

It's not even the words that hurt so much, Liam thinks, staring back at his sister, as the fact that it's obvious that Nicola has given up on him. "I've got a game," he says quietly. Turning away, he adds, "I'll see if Zayn or Pez can help out tonight, yeah?" He doesn't wait for a response, just heads out back to grab some fresh air.

He's not really sure how long he's been staring at the same spot on the wall when a plate appears in the corner of his vision. There's a sandwich, ham and turkey from what he can tell, along with a large pile of chips. Nicola's a warm line against his side as she settles next to him, leaning in just a bit.

"Liam--"

"I _can't_ ," he interrupts. The words sound desperate, even to him. "I can't give up, Nic," Being on the ice is the only place where everything is right; the only place it feels like he truly belongs. To give up on that leaves him with nothing.

His sister wraps an arm around his waist, settling her head on his shoulder. "I know." She sighs. "I know you can't, baby brother, but the doctors-" god knows there'd been enough of them. Liam can be a bit stubborn when he wants. "-the doctors all said that the damage to your peripheral vision is permanent. You _know_ that. And it's not like I want you to let go of that dream, but it's just--"

She trails off, helpless.

"Maybe it's time to get a different dream? Something more attainable?"

Liam sighs. After a moment, he closes his eyes, resting his cheek against the crown of his sister's head. He doesn't say anything else.

 

The Penalty Box is adding a small storage building around back of the building and several days later Liam is half-hanging off part of the frame that's in place, hammering a nail in a rather hard to reach spot when a cough startles him. Liam tilts his head back, but doesn't recognize the man standing there.

He's solid, dark-haired with a broad set of shoulders; he reminds Liam of every coach he's ever had. Both of them seem a bit startled at how fast Liam's feet hit the ground.

"You're taller that I was expecting," the stranger says. It's a weird thing to mention, really, and Liam frowns. He only grows more puzzled when the man continues. "That's a good thing actually."

"'m sorry, but what does my height have to do with playing hockey?"

It's the stranger's turn to look confused. Something falls in Liam's stomach.

"Aren't you here about the letter I sent in?" A head tilt just makes Liam's voice a little more desperate when he adds, "For the Deeside Dragons?" That was the last team on his list, the only one left before all his chances are gone. The man shakes his head, understanding moving into his eyes.

Liam feels a bit sick. He has to clear his throat before he can speak.

"If you've not come about my letter, what exactly are you doing here?" It hits Liam then that he's not even asked who he's talking to. "And who are you?"

"Pauly-- Paul Higgins, at your service." He offers Liam a hand to shake.

The name sounds vaguely familiar but Liam can't place exactly why. He reaches out to take Paul's hand, offering up his own name along with, "But I guess you already know that, yeah?"

Paul nods his head. He looks like he's sizing Liam up. Liam knows he's in the best shape of his life, running drills 3-4 hours a night, training every day. Still, the perusal makes him stand up a bit straighter. He stays quiet, waiting on Paul to give him the reason for his visit.

Finally Paul lets out a little huff, the moisture crystallizing in a little white cloud that Liam watches drift away. Paul's next words immediately bring his attention back to the man's face. "The thing is, Liam James Payne--" Liam jerks a little at the mention of his middle name, "I think we're each other's last chances."

Liam shakes his head, not understanding. Paul's staring hard at him and Liam's stomach is twisting again. Paul shrugs a small knapsack off his shoulder and Liam watches as he reaches in, pulling something out and tossing them at Liam's feet.

The item makes Liam looks up in astonishment.

"Are those figure skates?!"

Paul just grins.

*

Louis isn't sure exactly what to expect, but it's definitely not some brown-eyed country boy with a penchant for plaid. And really nice shoulders.

Louis shakes his head to clear the random thought.

"No," he says immediately. "Most definitely not."

Paul, as usual, ignores him. "Louis, this is Liam. I know it's hard, but please be nice."

The boy -- _Liam_ \-- holds his hand out, "I can't believe you've got your own rink." He looks around, smile wide, and adds, "Nice to meet you."

Louis sniffs. "We'll see." He ignores the hand and turns to skate off toward the middle of the rink. He can hear Paul sigh behind him. Sliding to a stop, Louis looks back. The boy -- _Liam_ his brain helpfully supplies again -- is frowning, eyebrows pulled together. He looks like a sad puppy. Louis feels bad for a moment but shoves the feeling away.

"Can he even skate, Paul?" Louis raises an eyebrow, dragging his eyes from Liam's face all the way down to his toes and then back up. There's a faint blush to Liam's cheeks when Louis finally gets up to his face again. Louis smirks and Liam's cheeks turn even darker. He glances over to Paul. "Well?"

Paul rubs a hand over his face. Before he can answer, Louis continues, "I thought you were bringing me Grimshaw again." Nick was a pain, but at least he was entertaining, a worthy verbal sparring partner. He could skate decently as well.

Glancing back at Liam, Louis's positive he won't last two seconds.

"I believe his words were," Paul pauses for dramatic effect and Louis rolls his eyes. "Not if the survival of the species depended on it."

Louis snorts. Drama queen.

Liam's eyebrows are nearly disappeared under his fringe. Pasting on a sweet smile, Louis glides over, holding out his hand. He can hear Paul sigh again but he ignores it, properly introducing himself. Liam does the same, immediate and polite. His hand feels like sandpaper, but it's large, engulfing his own. Liam's smile is warm, open; it unnerves Louis a little.

He drops Liam's hand and murmurs, "Shall we?"

Liam smiles again, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Louis _almost_ feels bad he won't be staying. Turning, he gives Paul the same sweet smile. All he gets in return is a wary look.

 

Paul positions them, Liam standing along Louis's back, with one hand in his and the other splayed across Louis's hip. His fingers feel strange, but Louis assumes it's because Liam's new, not used to being this close to someone on the ice without beating each other senseless.

"What are these for?"

Liam's asking about the tiny claws on the front of his skates. Louis keeps his face carefully blank with Paul answers, "It's a toe pick." Before Liam can ask further, Paul counts them off. Louis takes off smoothly and feels Liam struggle to keep pace as they lap the rink.

Paul calls out something about keeping in line but Louis keeps going, face serene. Then Liam's there, in close, the broad spread of his hand warm as it comes around to lay flat on Louis's stomach. Louis can practically feel Liam's smugness.

He speeds up and feels a moment of satisfaction as Liam puts too much pressure on the front of his skate and it catches on the ice. There's the sound of stuttered steps and the sound of a body landing heavily on the ice. Louis skates past Paul, turning to stop. Liam's sprawled across the ice, looking surprised at being there. There's another rush of air from Paul, quiet this time, even as Louis lifts up one foot, brandishing his skate.

"Toe Pick."

Liam's eyes narrow the slightest bit and Louis grins, sharp, in return.

 

"Louis, hold out your arms."

That snaps his head around. "What?"

Paul waves his hands, motioning for Louis to raise arms. Clenching his jaw, Louis puts his arms straight out to the side. "Pick him up," Paul tells Liam a moment later.

He can feel Liam pause behind him. "What?"

Louis thinks his eyes might actually pop out of his head, he rolls them so hard. "Pick. Me. Up," he grinds out between his teeth. "Or if you don't think you're strong eno--" Later, Paul teases him about screaming like a 5 year-old girl, but he refuses to hear it. Liam lifting him so easily was just a bit startling, that's all.

Louis kind of hates how he's a little impressed. Liam doesn't look _that_ strong. When he sees the gleam of amusement in Paul's eyes, however, he shoves all those feelings away and says rather loudly, "Put me down." Liam doesn't move and Louis wiggles a bit. "I _said_ \--"

He lands on his bum hard enough that for a moment, he can't breathe. Then a surge of white-hot anger slices through him and he snarls, "You. You-- arse!"

It's not the most creative curse, but his own is stinging from hitting the ice so hard that he can't really think of anything else. "Were you raised in a barn?" he snaps, turning his head to glare at Paul. This is all Paul's fault anyway.

Paul looks like he's doing his best not to laugh. Louis slams the heel of his blade against the ice, can't help the sound of frustration that slips out. The amusement falls off Paul's face, replaced by something that resembles disappointment. Louis  _hates_ that look so he turns his face toward one of the large windows that make up one of the walls of the rink.

"I think that's enough for today," Paul says quietly. Picking himself off the ice, Louis skates to the far end. He doesn't look at Paul and pushes away any curiosity at what Liam's doing. Neither of them catch Mr. Tomlinson watching the whole scene from across the room.

*

Liam isn't holding out much hope.

Mr. Tomlinson has been talking  _at_ him for the last ten minutes. He should be paying more attention really, but the dark lines of the study are distracting. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the glass-lined box that Mr. Tomlinson had told him would one day hold an Olympic gold medal. Liam has his doubts.

Louis is one of the most difficult people Liam thinks he's ever met. He's gorgeous; Liam would have to be blind not to notice that, but his blue eyes are just as cold and hard as the ice they were skating on this afternoon. He's not sure it's worth the trouble, to be honest.

Liam tunes back into the conversation in time to hear the words, "Do you know how many partners we've gone through?" He shakes his head, shifts in his seat and watches as Mr. Tomlinson crumples up one of the papers on his desk.

"Too many to count," he continues. There's a shot at the bin that sits a few feet away, near the fireplace, that bounces off the rim and away. "This one's too tall." Another paper, another shot. This one bounces short. "This one's too short." Another shot, another miss. "This one's too quiet." Miss. "Too loud." Miss. Miss. Miss.

Mr. Tomlinson sighs, placing his hands palm down on the desk. "I know my son has a personality that can be... difficult," he finishes. Liam doesn't move a muscle, despite the fact that he wants to laugh. Difficult? Try a total arse. He keeps it to himself though. His silence gets him a look, a scrutiny that makes Liam want to squirm.

"Yes," Mr. Tomlinson says, "I know Louis is part of the problem, Mr. Payne. But he  _is_ my son and I just don't think you're going to work out, not after what I witnessed earlier." He pulls a check book out from the side drawer and Liam watches him scrawl it out before he slides it across the expanse of the desk. After a moment's hesitation, Liam reaches out, fingertips slipping it off the edge. He turns it over and swallows. It's more than enough to cover the trip out. Hell, it's enough that Liam could pay off a sizeable chunk of Nicola's mortgage on the Penalty Box.

He should take it and run. Head back home and never think about this crazy idea again. Go back to playing in the local league and sending out letters. Law of averages says that something's bound to hit at some point, yeah?

But he remembers the slice of his blades through the ice. The sound of them, the feel of a challenge. Liam thinks about the startled jerk of Louis's shoulders when he'd caught up that first time. He thinks about Louis's sharp tongue and then he thinks about what's waiting back at home.

Getting what you want is about making a choice, about hard work and desire. About wanting something enough to go after it. Liam knows this. He also knows it's about chances, too. Opportunities.

Liam looks up at Mr. Tomlinson and grins. It seems to startle the other man. He smiles back though, tentative and questioning. Liam holds up the check, waves it a little, then glances over at the bin across the room. It's surrounded by a number of crumpled papers. When Liam looks back, there's a knowing look in Mr. Tomlinson's eyes. His grin turns sharp.

Crumpling the check, Liam says, "How would you like to make a small bet, sir?"

 

The first thing Liam sees when he walks out of the office is Louis. He's obviously been trying to listen at the door. His eyes narrow at the friendly way that his father's hand is resting on Liam's shoulder.

"I just thought I would come see you off."

Liam opens his mouth to say something, but Mr. Tomlinson - _call me Mark_ \- gets there first. "No need, son. Liam's not going anywhere." Liam wonders if he's the only one that thinks it sounds like a warning to Louis. He pushes the thought away at the sight of Louis's eyes widening, his mouth dropping open in shock.

"What?"

Liam can't help grinning, even as Mark guides him past Louis, saying something about showing him to where he'll be staying. Liam can't help looking back over his shoulder. Louis hasn't moved; he's just standing there staring. Liam throws back a, "See you in the morning, Lou," and watches at how his mouth pinches at the nickname. A moment later, Louis snaps around, disappearing further into the house. Liam smiles wider.

 

Liam's good on the ice, but those first few days he spends more time laid out on it than skating on it. Louis's taken a very personal interest in showing him exactly what the toe pick is and the multitude of ways that it can cause Liam pain. The fourth night he eats dinner sat at the table with bags of ice strapped to his hips, he thinks _enough_.

Louis must sense something's changed because he quits testing Liam. In that way, at least. He still pushes and pulls Liam in a million different directions, both verbally and physically.

 

 

The zamboni's making its rounds on the rink, and while Louis's sat in a chair on the far end, Liam's keeping his stick skills in order by playing against the machine. He catches Louis snort and glances back over his shoulder. It's not the brightest move; the zamboni clips his shoulder and Liam twists off to the side as he tries to keep his balance. When he looks up, it's to find Louis watching him, eyebrow raised.

"Do you think of anything other than hockey?" he asks. It looks like Louis's looking down his nose at Liam and Liam's not sure how he does that, especially when he's sitting down. Liam shrugs.

"What about school? University?" Louis waves a hand around.

"Wasn't ever really good at school, to be honest," he answers. "Once I started winning, it didn't really seem to matter anyway." Louis looks a little disgusted.

"What were you planning to do _after_ hockey?"

Liam looks down at the stick in his hand as he makes his way over to where Louis's sat. It hurts a little to admit, "Kind of thought I'd play forever." He sits on the edge of the rink, grabbing some tape and starts to wrap the handle of his stick. When he glances over, there's a strange look on Louis's face.

Louis catches him looking and raises his chin. "Didn't your parents ever say anything?"

"They wanted me to be happy." Liam shrugs. "Hockey made me happy." He tears off the tape, glancing over his handiwork. He looks up to see Louis watching him again. "What about you then?" Waving his hand around them, he adds, "Your parents obviously want you to be happy, yeah?"

It's the wrong thing to say. Louis's face closes off. He throws off the blanket curled around his lap and steps out on the ice. Turning, he says, "My parents divorced when I was ten. Mother left and Father built me a rink to show me how much he loves me." He skates backwards a bit, lifting both arms, "As you can see, he loves me a whole lot."

There's obviously more to it than Louis's letting on, but conversation is just _so hard_ with him. Liam bites his lip. It's like he can't ever say the right thing. No matter how he tries. So he might as well go all in.

"Where is she?"

It's Louis's turn to shrug this time. "Doncaster apparently, from the last family photograph I received."

"Family?"

"She remarried." Louis does a quick backspin and Liam can't help pushing.

"So you've got siblings then?" Something flickers over Louis's face

"Half-sisters. Four of them now, the last I heard." Louis's voice is short, clipped. To Liam, it looks like Louis might break any minute, he's holding himself so tightly.

"You know what's a great stress reliever?"

Louis finally looks at Liam, confused by the sudden change in topic. Liam stands up, tapping his stick on the ice. "Hitting hockey pucks, that's what." The frown's back on Louis's face, but it's less rigid, less brittle. "How about I teach you some basics and we'll do a little one on one, yeah?"

Louis scoffs. "Like I need to learn anything from a-a-- from you." The line of his shoulders is lower, the jut of his hip cocky when he puts his hand on it.

Grinning, Liam tosses his stick toward Louis. "Let's see what you've got then."

 

Twenty minutes later, Liam's never heard _anyone_ curse a blue streak like Louis. He's got good hand-eye coordination, but Liam's been playing for years. He thinks he's subtle, letting Louis get a few shots in but Louis figures it out and yells at him about taking it easy and, well.

Liam stops playing nice. Before he can blink, Liam's got a handful of shots past him and through their makeshift goal markers.

It works though. Louis's shoulders lower, his face loses its coldness. Louis's cheeks are flushed now and there's a spark in his eyes that Liam's not seen before. It's a good look for him and Liam catches himself staring. Louis's good-looking, something Liam can say objectively, but like this, he's--

It's Louis's battle cry that snaps Liam out of his thoughts. Unfortunately, it's not in time for him to duck.

 

Hours later, when Liam's being rolled out of the emergency room, a giant swath of bandages around his head, when Louis's rushing over to him with his mouth open to yell at Paul -- _you said it wasn't serious, Paul_ \-- when Liam pulls it down to show off the tiny set of two stitches along the inner ridge of his eyebrow and Louis yells at him instead, then punches him hard enough that Liam yelps, before stalking out of the medical clinic, he'll think about that split second before the puck hit him. Then he'll push it down and grin at Paul instead, murmur, "Toe Pick?" and they'll both laugh.

*

Louis admits that Liam is in good shape. There's no way to really dispute that. Liam has taken everything both Paul and Louis have thrown at him and not complained once. Louis can begrudge him a bit of respect for that.

Still, it irks Louis to no end every time he slides the door open to the rink and find Liam's already there, practicing with a focus that Louis remembers from his own early days. He always has a moment to look up and grin at Louis, like mornings are the best thing ever. Louis always scowls back until that smile falls away. It's not quite as satisfying as Louis thinks it should be.

What is satisfying, however, is the morning that Liam slides the door open to find Louis finishing up a camel spin. Liam's eyes narrow at Louis's arched brows and wide smile.

That sparks off a challenge then, each of them trying to out-do the other. Who's up first, who runs the hardest, who lands the cleanest double flip. Strength versus fluidity. Louis's never been more exhausted in his entire life, to be honest. Watching Liam waddle his way down the hall, swathed in ice packs is hilariously satisfying. The night Louis falls asleep at the table and lands face-first in his mashed potatoes, however, is not.

Louis feels faster, better, sharper than he ever has before. He refuses to attribute that to Liam.

 

Christmas brings the Tomlinson yearly soirée and Harry Styles.

Harry's the opposite to Louis, warm and polite in a way that Louis is usually not, and he can feel Liam staring between them after their introductory conversation. Harry's a hockey fan; he and Liam going on for a bit. It bores Louis after a while, so he steps away to make the rounds of the room.

He keeps an eye on them, watching the way Harry steps closer to Liam. The way Harry's fingers reach out to rest on Liam's elbow every so often and flashes his dimples. Louis wants to roll his eyes but he figures the Tomlinson family accountant he's supposed to be conversing with wouldn't understand.

He makes his excuses and begins moving back toward the pair, getting there just in time to hear Harry drawl, "I feel that with as much knowledge I have of the game, I'd be better at it."

Harry's smile widens, although Louis's not sure if it's from the way he slips his hand around Harry's elbow or the way Liam throws his head back like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. Liam's laughter fades away when Harry moves to slide his arm around Louis's waist. Placing a warm kiss at Louis's temple, he murmurs, "How's Mr. Landon?" He knows how much Louis hates these things.

"Boring," Louis answers shortly. Liam's watching the two of them, silent now. Louis grins and Liam immediately looks wary. It makes Louis grin wider. "Our Liam's looking fit. Don't you think so, Harry?"

From the corner of his eye, he can see Harry give Liam a very thorough once-over. A light blush makes its way across Liam's cheeks and he shifts from one foot to the other.

"Well fit," Harry finally answers. There's mirth in his voice that only Louis recognizes. They've been friends for a long, long time. The fingers at Louis's waist tighten the tiniest bit though, a question. Almost a warning.

Maybe they've been friends for _too_ long.

Exhaustion hits Louis suddenly. He really does hate these stupid parties. With a sigh, he waves a hand at Liam. "You should go mingle, Liam. My father probably wants to introduce you around anyway." Without waiting for Liam's response, Louis angles into Harry's side and says, "A drink, I think?"

Harry's eyes narrow thoughtfully as he meets Louis's gaze. He nods a second later, reaching out to offer Liam his hand, he murmurs some pleasantry and then they're moving toward the patio situated at the the end of the room. Before they slide out the door, Louis glances back. Liam's still in the same spot, staring after the two. Louis can't quite make out the expression on his face.

 

Louis generally doesn't drink when he's training but it's New Years and now he's more than a bit tipsy. Only it's nearly midnight and Harry's nowhere to be found.

Going up on his tip-toes, Louis glances around. It's not the best idea, his equilibrium a bit wonky from the alcohol, and he stumbles. A pair of hands settle on his hips and he turns his head back to find that it's Liam who's saved him. He opens his mouth to say something -- _thank you is generally acceptable_ is what the voice says in his head -- but the countdown starts, everyone shouting, and he can't think, let alone be heard.

_Eight! Seven!_

Liam doesn't move, his hands a warm heat that Louis can feel through the cloth of his trousers.

_Six! Five!_

Someone stumbles against Louis and he shifts forward automatically, glances up as Liam steadies him again.

_Four! Three!_

Louis swears that Liam glances at his mouth and Louis's breath catches.

_Two! One!_

They each move at the same time, the soft press of lips to a cheek on each side. Louis watches Liam's lips form the words _Happy New Year, Lou_ and then he's gone.

Louis goes in search of Harry. And some more champagne.

*

He's going to have to tell his family.

Staring at the ceiling from his spot on the bed, Liam debates whether or not he should just miss his flight on purpose. That seems easier than telling them about the fact that he's _not_ been helping coach some small start-up team like he may or may not have told them, but has instead spent the better part of the year learning how to figure skate. Then he thinks about the sound of disappointment in his mum's voice when he tells her he's been lying.

With a sigh, Liam drags himself out of bed. It won't be that bad, he knows. It's just. It's kind of like giving up, just a little. Nicola's voice rings through his head, the tone of her voice in that last real conversation they'd had. She's right though; it's time to get a new dream. It hits him right then, just as a sharp rap on the door comes, that that's exactly what he _has_ done. Reluctantly, maybe, but still. It's a new dream.

He opens the door to find Louis standing there, shuffling from one foot to the other, and thinks that it's a pretty good dream.

"Are you going to just stand there like a lump," He's got his hands behind his back, chin tilted up and the tell-tale arch of a brow, "or you going to invite me in?"

He doesn't wait for Liam, ducking under his arm and wandering into the room. It's a bit of a mess, with Liam packing and then not packing. Liam hastily shoves some loose clothes into his bag. When he glances over, it's to find Louis looking at a picture he's got tacked up on a mirror. Louis's eyes are narrowed the slightest bit, scrutinizing the painting.

"It's quite good," Louis finally says. His voice is quiet, a strange undertone that Liam can't quite decipher. Not that that's unusual; Liam spends most of every day trying to figure Louis out. "What are you-- Are you smelling the ice?"

"Yeah," Liam nods enthusiastically. "My friend Zayn knows how much I love the smell of the ice and it kinda--" he shrugs, "became this thing."

"Never really thought of that," Louis murmurs, and the words slip out of Liam's mouth before he can stop them.

"That doesn't surprise me."

Finally breaking away, Louis frowns at Liam. "What is that supposed to mean?" Liam shrugs a shoulder, turning to go pick up his bag, but Louis stops him with a hand on his elbow.

"Louis--"

"No, tell me. What do you mean by that?" Liam's still reluctant to say anything, but Louis's fingers tighten on his elbow. " _Liam_."

"I just think you'd skate even better if you let yourself enjoy it more," Liam finally bursts out. He regrets it immediately when Louis's fingers drop like he's been scalded.

"I come up here to wish you a nice weekend with your family and you're going to lecture _me_ on how to skate?" Louis's voice is sharp. Liam runs a hand through his hair.

"You insisted!"

"No, I didn't!"

Liam gives him a look. "Yes, Louis, you did. Just now. What with the demanding an answer." Louis pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath.

"Whatever. Just--" he pushes his hand against Liam's chest and it takes a moment to realize that he's pressing a cd case against him. "Take this. It's a video of us. Show your family or not, I don't care." With that, he turns away, leaving Liam to fumble the case before it hits the floor. Louis slams out of the room before Liam can say anything.

"Have a nice weekend yourself," Liam tells the shut door. "Maybe by the time I get back, I'll have learned to keep my mouth shut." Liam thinks about the look on Louis's face while he was staring at the picture. Probably not.

With a sigh, he finishes packing up his bag. The cd case gets tucked in between his old team hoodie and his favorite pair of jeans.

 

When Liam walks through the door to the Penalty Box, the first thing he sees is Niall. Sat on the tiny stage in the corner of the bar, he's got his guitar, fingers moving over the strings with loving familiarity. He's not noticed Liam yet; no one has really. They're all entranced by Perrie as she sings. With reason, Perrie's voice is low and warm, floating over the room.

Liam glances around, grinning when he finds Zayn behind the bar. He's leaning forward and watching Perrie with so much love that Liam has a moment of intense envy. He shakes it off, and looks back at the stage just in time to see Niall notice him. He grins wide enough to hurt and reaches out to poke Perrie, jerking his chin in Liam's direction. Perrie immediately stops singing and shouts Liam's name.

It's a Friday, always a busy day for the bar, and Liam winces as everyone turns to look at him. He can feel his face flushing.

"Baby brother!" Ruth slams into his side like the whirlwind she is, arms wrapping around him in a bone-crushing hug. Liam realizes how much he's missed her, all of them, and tucks her in tighter even as he greets what feels like half the town. They immediately start clamoring for details - what it's like coaching instead of playing, if his team is any good, and more.

Liam sighs. Time for the truth.

"I need to tell you something."

 

"What? You're--" Zayn looks confused.

Perrie starts bouncing up and down in her seat, clapping delightedly, and Niall nearly snorts his beer out of his nose, he's laughing so hard.

Zayn tries again. "You're what? Did I hear you say you're _figure skating_? Like--" he waves a hand, twirling his finger in a circle in way that Liam guesses is supposed to mean a spin of some sort. Niall laughs harder. Zayn slumps back in his stool, sighing. "Figure skating?"

Before Liam can answer, Nicola sets a glass of water down for Liam. With her free hand, she slaps Zayn upside the back of his head. He glares at her, but sends a sheepish look at Liam. Shrugging a shoulder, he says, "Soz. It's just... not what I expected to hear come out of your mouth, to be honest."

Glancing over, Liam catches Nicola watching him. She gives him a small smile, and there's something in her eyes that makes the knot in Liam's stomach loosen. New dreams. Right. Liam turns back to look at Zayn.

"I know." Shaking his head, he adds, "It's not like I was expecting to _like_ it so much, right? And it's _hard_ , harder than hockey for damn sure. And Lou's really, really good--"

"Lou?" Niall interrupts.

"My, uh, partner, Louis Tomlinson."

Perrie's eyes go wide. "Wait, _the_ Louis Tomlinson. The one who was set to win a gold last Olympics and then ended up arse-on-the-ice in front of a million people?"

Liam ends up shrugging again. He's not had a chance to really look at any of Louis's old stuff, too focused on training. Perrie's practically vibrating in her seat again. "Tell us about him, Li. Come on, dish!"

Rolling his eyes, Liam starts talking. He tells them about the rink, about the house that's too big for just two (now three) people. He talks about skating, about competing with each other, Louis's sharp spins and even sharper tongue. Ten minutes later, he's finishing up the story about the trip to the medical center when he looks up and sees Zayn grinning at him.

"What?" Liam asks.

"You've got a lot to say about this 'Lou' person."

"Of course I do," Liam tells him. He ignores that little squirm in his chest that happens a lot now when Louis's name comes up. "He's my partner. We're together for, like, 10 or more hours a day." Zayn just hums.

Liam glances around, only to find everyone wearing similar smirks. "What?"

Perrie gives him a small smile, lifts a shoulder, and says, "You just sound awfully fond of him, that's all."

Liam looks at her like she's crazy. "I'm not 'fond' of him, Pez. He turns everything into a competition. _Everything_. He uses words like weapons. Sarcastic _all_ the time, like. Proper rude." He flings a hand out and Zayn flinches as it comes perilously close to his face. "Two days ago, he started pinching my-- pinching me every time I missed my mark." Liam huffs. "He's a menace, that's what he is."

Cocking her head to the side, Perrie just says, "But, you love challenges, Liam."

Liam opens his mouth to protest, to say that Louis is not something so simple as learning how to handle a puck. In the next instant though, he realizes she's right. Mouth closed, he slumps back against the bar. Louis _is_ a challenge. He's like a rival team in a championship game - Liam just needs to study each player's moves, their strengths and weaknesses, and how to use each of those to his advantage.

It's no wonder Liam's thrown. He's not been thinking about this the right way. Looking up, he grins at Perrie. He just needs a plan for the game.

 

It seems reasonable in retrospect - learn what makes Louis tick and then use that so that Liam can work his way into a more comfortable working relationship with his skating partner. A relationship that doesn't involve pushing each other until someone passes out, that doesn't involve sharp looks, and sharper words.

Only.

Only Louis keeps changing the game. By a word, or an action, and so Liam's constantly playing catch-up. Struggling to keep a stick on the puck, so to speak. It's frustrating as hell.

"I don't even think he likes skating," Liam mumbles. Paul's currently digging his thumbs into an especially persistent knot in Liam's calf. It takes a minute before he responds.

"You worked at the factory with your dad, right? After that last game?" Liam nods, the two day's worth of scruff catching on the pillow underneath him. "Were you happy there?"

That makes Liam lift his head, glancing back at Paul with a frown. "I worked there because I had to."

Paul just lifts and eyebrow, pressing into the tender muscle hard enough that Liam winces even as he puts his head back down, thinking.

The conversation doesn't leave his head for days.

 

Harry confuses Liam. He talks slower than anyone Liam's ever met and his jokes aren't really funny, but the way he delights in them makes Liam laugh as well. He's a nice lad, warm and polite to everyone. Such the opposite of Louis that sometimes Liam wonders how they ever got together. He wants to ask, but each time he opens his mouth the words never come out.

Mainly, Liam thinks, he doesn't ask because with Harry around, Louis is calm, almost soft in a way. His words are less cutting and he's more readily agreeable to, well, everything.

 

Almost everything.

"But it's boring," Liam says.

The strains of something classical - Haydn maybe, Liam can't remember because he's about- "-to fall asleep, Lou. C'mon onnn." He leans over, pressing the button to the disc he's trying to get Louis to at least consider. It's got a fast tempo, definitely more modern than _Haydn_.

"We should try something different, get the crowd up on their feet."

"This isn't hockey," Louis grits out. "There'll be no bloodthirsty screams for a fight, no glory shouts of 'all hail Liam, crown prince of the rink." He switches it back to the classical music, edging the volume up a notch. "It's ice skating. It's class and grace and skill. It deserves music worthy of that."

"It's borrrrrrrrring." Liam knows he's being whiny, but god. Louis won't even try and listen. He's nearly as bad as that first week Liam'd been here. Liam thought they'd moved past this for the most part, especially since Harry's been hanging around.

He glances over to where Harry's sat on the sofa, watching the two of them like it's a tennis match. "Tell him, Harry. Tell him that it's boring."

Harry just shrugs, taking another strawberry out of the packet in his lap. It's nearly empty now, had been full when they came in to discuss the music for their routine. Liam frowns, glancing down at his watch. It's past midnight. With a sigh, he reaches over and changes the music again, pushes the volume level higher. Raising his voice, Liam asks, "Won't you even take a minute to listen? Let's take a chance, try something new for once."

"New doesn't get us a gold medal," Louis scowls and switches it back to his music, louder this time. He leans in and pokes Liam in the chest. "If you want to win--" he's up in Liam's space now, so close that Liam can feel each word. "If you want to win, you play it safe."

Louis's too close; Liam can feel the heat coming off of him, feel Louis's breath on each exhale. The volume of the music is making it hard to think. And Liam can feel Harry, watching the two of them but not moving. It's all a bit much.

Frustrated, Liam snaps, "Well, it obviously didn't get you where you wanted last time, did it?"

He regrets the words instantly, watching as Louis expression closes off, goes quiet and still. Liam's got his mouth open to offer an apology when Harry finally moves off the sofa. He leans over, the tips of one hand pressing into Liam's shoulder, the other moving toward Louis

"Time for bed, I think," he says in that slow, sleepy voice. "You're both tired and grumpy and no decisions are going to be made tonight."

Liam's first instinct is to reach out, stop the way Louis's getting to his feet, guided by the hand that Harry's curled around the back of his neck. He wants to apologize, even has Louis's name on the tip of his tongue when Harry looks back over his shoulder. He gives Liam a small smile, mixed with a look that Liam can't quite decipher, then turns his head back.

Harry's arm drops to curl around Louis's waist and Liam waits for Louis to push him away, he's done that to Harry before when upset. But to Liam's surprise, Louis melts into Harry's side. Harry presses a kiss to the top of Louis's head and something twists in Liam's stomach. He turns away, cutting off the power to the CD player. It's too quiet then. The abrupt change startling Liam. Behind him he can hear the murmur of Harry's voice, of Louis's response.

With a start, Liam realizes he's exhausted, full on weary to his bones. Maybe it's time for a break.

*

Louis doesn't like Zayn.

Which is a bit sad, really, because Zayn is probably even prettier than Harry, and Louis appreciates pretty things, he does. But Zayn is, well, _handsy_. From the second he'd shown up at the door and Liam's face had lit up like Christmas, he'd not kept his fingers to himself. Neck, shoulder, waist - his hands are always somewhere on Liam. Louis is his skating partner and _he_ doesn't even touch Liam that much.

Not that Liam seems to mind, turning into it every time. He looks ridiculously comfortable and relaxed and Louis is disgruntled.

"So." He interrupts Harry, who's going on about something that Louis's not paying attention to, and looks between the Liam and Zayn. They're sat in one of the smaller common rooms in the house, on a sofa that's large enough to hold at least four people. Only Liam and Zayn are practically sitting on each other, Zayn's hand curled around Liam's neck.

"So," Louis repeats. He can feel Harry shift next to him, the fingers on Louis's knee pressing down the slightest bit. Ignoring it, he asks, "So how long have you two been together then?"

Beside him he can hear Harry sigh. He ignores that too and tilts his head, lifting an eyebrow.

Zayn looks amused, meeting Louis's gaze dead on. Liam, however, has turned bright red, spluttering, "What? We-- He's my best mate! We're not-- Zayn's _married_!"

"Ah, so you've got an agreement worked out then?" Louis looks away from the confusion on Liam's face to find Zayn still sitting there quietly. "That's convenient, I suppose. "

"Lou--" There's a warning in Harry's voice. His fingers dig into Louis's knee.

"Perrie's an absolutely lovely girl, I'll have you know." Liam says before Harry can go any further. "I wouldn't ever hurt her like that."

Louis glances back to find Liam frowning. He looks disappointed and Louis looks away. Unfortunately, it's to find Harry watching him, a speculative look on his face. That bodes good for no one, as Harry knows Louis entirely too well.

Louis grinds his teeth together, to stop himself from saying anything else. "Sorry," he finally mumbles. "Didn't sleep well last night, makes me a bit of an arse, it seems."

He can feel both Liam and Harry staring at him, but it's Zayn's eyes he meets when his chin comes back up. Sees his gaze flicker to Harry's hand on his knee and then back up to Louis's face. There's a look on his face now, like he gets it, understands what's happening and it's too much for Louis. _He_ doesn't even understand what's going on, why's he's being such a jerk.

Standing up abruptly, he states, "I think I'll go take a nap then, take care of that." He can feel Harry start to get up and he leans down to place a quick kiss on his cheek. "You should stay, Haz. One of us needs to be a decent host, yeah?" He avoids looking at anyone, nodding toward Zayn and Liam. "Enjoy yourselves; Liam's worked hard, he deserves some time with a friend," and leaves before anyone can say anything else.

Louis avoids Liam and Zayn for the rest of the weekend.

 

"What's going on with you?"

Louis's lifts his arms as Harry tugs his shirt up and then over his head. He glances up when he can finally see and raises an eyebrow. Reaching for the buckle on Harry's belt, he just hums a non-committal sound. If his knuckles press down a little harder than they should when he slides the zipper down, it's just because Harry wears the tightest jeans known to man.

"C'mon, Lou." Harry says. There's the tiniest bit of a whine in it that makes Louis smirk. Harry's so easy. Louis slides his hand into Harry's pants, palming his cock. There's another whine and the can't-help-it jerk of hips. _So_ easy.

Louis's walking them back toward the bed, nipping at the underside of Harry's jaw when Harry sighs and wraps a hand around Louis's wrist.

"Seriously, Louis. You've been a right tit this weekend." Louis doesn't say anything and Harry sighs. It sounds sad and Louis can feel his right eye twitch. Nobody likes a sad Harry. Even Louis, who's known him for forever, still has a hard time with it. He rests his forehead against the warmth of Harry's neck as he goes on.

"Zayn seems like an alright lad. And he makes Liam happy." Louis tries not to tense at that. "You've both been way too stressed lately. It's good that Liam's got a bit of relaxation." There's a pause and Louis tries to keep his breath even.

"It was like--" Harry's chewing on his lip; Louis can tell. "It was like you were jealous or something."

That makes Louis's head pop up.

"No--" Harry makes a pained sound and Louis realizes he's squeezed just a bit too hard. "Sorry, sorry--" he pulls his hand out of Harry's pants. "No, I am not jealous," he repeats. He's _not_. "It's like you said, we've both been under a lot of stress lately. It's just that-- that Nationals are coming up and we're good, we're really good--"

It hits Louis right then. He believes that, it's not just something he's saying to distract the both of them. They _are_ good. He looks up at Harry. "We could even win," he says quietly.

Harry must see it on his face, the surprise in believing his own words. He grins. It's slow, like always, maybe a little wider than usual though and he leans down to drop a kiss on Louis's mouth. Louis follows him when he pulls away, still dazed at the realization. It makes Harry giggle.

"Right then." Harry kisses him again, a little harder this time. "Now quit being mean to Liam, yeah? I like him and it's terrible when he's got sad eyebrows."

Louis ignores the little flip in his stomach at Liam's name. He focuses back in, sees the way Harry's looking at him. All proud and fond and shit. It's disgusting and Louis is so intensely glad that Harry's stuck around all these years, knows he's never really made it easy.

"Don't talk about Liam when we're about to have sex, Harold," he quips, shoving his hand back in Harry's pants. "It's disturbing."

Harry laughs. "Oh, is that what we're doing?" He wiggles his hips a little, a stupid little shimmy that nearly sends the two of them over sideways. Louis mocks him and everything is back to where it's supposed to be.

 

Louis comes to see Zayn off, watching they way he and Liam hold onto each other. There's an easy familiarity to this as with everything else the two of them do and Louis ignores the little twist the curls around his belly. Harry's right though, Liam is obviously happier, eyes crinkling up in that stupid way they do when he's smiling too big.

Louis's startled out of the thought that he knows what Liam looks like when he's really happy by Zayn's arms wrapping around him. Startled at the hug, Louis is embarrassed to say that he pretty much squeaks in surprise. There's laughter at that and Louis looks over Zayn's shoulder to see Liam smiling at him. For some reason, his own face starts to heat up.

Rolling his eyes, he gives Zayn's back a perfunctory pat and then pushes lightly at his shoulder. "Enough of that, ugh. Away, away. Liam and I have to get back to work. Nationals won't win themselves."

Zayn grins and really, he's so ridiculously pretty Louis has to wonder how anyone gets anything done around him. "No really," Louis says, "we're scheduled for a couple hours on the ice right now. Off with you." Louis's talking down his nose, but the tone is not quite so biting as usual. Louis ignores that and waves Zayn out the door, even as Liam and Harry continue to giggle behind him.

 

Louis's not quite sure what's changed, but practices are easier after that weekend. Harry heads back into London and Louis misses him, misses talking to him, having him around and such. Harry's easy for Louis, the product of too many years and too many secrets told between them.

It turns out Liam's pretty easy too, once Louis takes the time to pay attention.

When Liam's frustrated because he's having trouble with a move, Louis pokes at him, chases him around the rink until he's too busy laughing to think about what he's doing wrong.

When Liam's tired of skating, Louis drags them into town to wander around the quaint shops. Usually, however, they'll end up at the toy store. Liam always apologizes so sincerely each time they get kicked out.

When Liam is homesick, Louis finds that putting on some Pixar movie is almost always the answer to pull him out of it. Especially when Liam learns that Louis's viewing history is sadly lacking.

"You've never seen _Toy Story_?" Liam's face is incredulous. Like Louis's discovered the cure for cancer and then burned the formula. Seriously, Louis should not feel so bad for not having seen a _children's_ film.

"I mean, didn't you ever. With, you know-- ?" He makes a gesture that Louis's supposed to interpret as his sisters, he guesses. Louis ignores him, busying himself with the disc and the player. Behind him, he can hear Liam sigh. Louis refuses to talk about his mum and his sisters, no matter how many times Liam brings it up. He's brought it up a lot lately.

 

Later, when they've made it to the last film and Louis may or may not be sniffling into his shirt sleeve, Liam tugs him in closer. They just sit there as the credits roll and Louis ends up falling asleep curled into Liam's side.

It turns out that maybe Louis's pretty easy too when it comes down to it.

 

The rink is empty when Louis gets there so he takes a few minutes to warm up while he waits for Liam to get there. He's just completed a double loop combination when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye.

"You're late," Louis starts, a smirk and a sharp retort at the tip of his tongue when he finally turns. The corners of his mouth turn down instantly. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Rick Tuttle stands there, looking Louis up and down with a critical eye. Ignoring Louis's question, he says, "You're looking decent, Lou. Still not tucking in enough on your rotation, I see. "

"You don't get to call me that," Louis snaps. He can feel his shoulders going back and has to physically make himself stop from sucking in his stomach. "In fact, you don't get to call me at all and you sure as hell don't get to criticize anything I do on the ice anymore."

That earns him a sharp grin as Tuttle steps forward, placing his hand on the rail. Louis can't help gliding back a step and makes himself stop immediately. Lifting his chin, he adds, "What _are_ you doing here? If I recall correctly, we didn't have much left to say to each other the last time."

"Just had to see for myself," he says. "Had to see if all the rumors were true. That you'd got so desperate for a partner that you'd taken up a hockey reject." Louis's hands curl into fists. Tuttle catches the movement and smirks. "Oh Louis, it _is_ true."

"He's not a reject," Louis grits through clenched teeth.

"You meant a lot to this sport," Tuttle says. Shaking his head, he adds, "I hate seeing you go out this way, a laughing stock to it."

"Fuck you." Louis skates forward, placing his hands outside of Tuttle's on the rail. "He's not a reject. He's good."

Louis presses forward, lifting up to get in his ex-coach's condescending face. "He's so good, he'll make you cry."

Intense satisfaction rolls through Louis as he sees the way Tuttle's eyes narrow, the way his nostrils flair in anger. A second later, Tuttle's gaze flickers over Louis's shoulder and his face settles into bland pleasantness. He does a short salute, two fingers from his brow, then turns to leave without another word.

When Louis finally turns around, of course Liam's standing there. He's watching Louis carefully.

"You prove me wrong, Liam Payne, and I'll kill you myself. Got it?"

He nods. It looks like he's trying not to laugh. Louis glares at him and Liam breaks at that, grinning wide.

"Whatever," Louis grumbles. "Are we practicing or not? I'm still not convinced you're feeling the emotion in that last upright. The music swells there Liam, you've got to _sell_ it."

And fine, he kind of deserves it when Liam laughs outright.

*

The ice is busy. It's something that Liam feels he should be used to, he's played hockey for over half his life. There's always dozens of players on the ice. Spatially he should be fine.

But when another couple glides past them, close enough that Liam can feel the air rush by, he realizes that he feels infinitely out of place. That, and the fact that it feels like everyone is staring at him, makes him grip Louis's hand a little too tight as they warm up a spin. It makes Louis glance over at him, frowning.

"What's wrong?" He slides to a stop and Liam does the same.

Liam shrugs. "It feels like everyone is staring at me." When he glances over his shoulder, taking in the crowd both on the ice and in the stands. Louis's old coach, Rick, is definitely watching them.

"They are, you ninny." Jerking his head back around in surprise, Liam finds Louis looking around too. When he finally looks back at Liam, he shrugs. "Best get used to it, the press loves juicy gossip and you, Liam, are the kind of news they kill for."

Liam feels a bit sick to his stomach now. Louis rolls his eyes at the look on Liam's face, reaching out to pinch his nipple. It has the intended effect - Liam squeaks and swats at Louis's hands, trying to wrap a hand around his wrists when Louis goes in again. "Louis--"

He catches a glimpse of a familiar figure over Louis's shoulder, and and jerks his chin in that direction. Louis glances over just as Liam asks, "Isn't that--?"

"Ah, Grimshaw," Louis sighs as the other skater stops by them. It earns him a wide grin. Liam thinks he's got a lot of teeth. And hair. Really tall hair.

"Lou-Lou--" Louis grimaces at the nickname and Liam bites his lip to keep from smiling. "Hiya, babes. Wasn't really expecting to see you."

"My name's been on the roster for nearly a year, Grimmy. Why else would it be there if I weren't going to skate?" Liam frowns a bit. Louis's leaning back into him, a line of warmth pressed into his side. Liam's not even sure Louis's aware that he's doing. Liam can't help the little zing of happiness that goes through him. It's been nice the last few months, finally getting to know Louis, getting him to trust Liam. He doesn't want to bring it to Louis's notice so he just stands there, still as he can be as Louis and Grimmy snipe back and forth.

It hits Liam that despite the words, the two of them aren't really being mean. It's more like a game. Liam watches the two of them for a moment and finally can't help smiling, just the tiniest bit. He glances up to find Grimmy's partner biting her lip, trying to keep from laughing as she watches them as well. She looks over at Liam and shakes her head. Liam laughs.

It startles Louis. He narrows his eyes at Liam. "What?"

Ignoring Louis, Liam reaches out. "I'm Liam--"

"Payne, I know. My brother never used to shut up about you." She smiles tentatively, obviously not sure whether it's a sore subject. Liam just smiles as she shakes his hand. Her fingers are long, the skin soft against his own palm. "I'm Danielle Peazer." She tilts her head, adding, "Grimmy's new partner."

She's tall, especially for a skater, but there's an easy grace to her that Liam admires. He probably holds her hand longer than he should as they smile at each other.

"Well." Louis's voice breaks the moment, and Liam realizes the warmth is gone from his side. He lets go of Danielle's hand and turns toward Louis. His face is turned away from Liam and the tension in the line of his shoulders makes Liam's brows draw together. He's about to ask if Louis's okay, when Louis snaps his head back around. "Enough of this lolly-gagging around, boys and girls. Chop, chop."

He reaches out and grabs Liam's hand, dragging them away with a, "Nice seeing you, Grimy," and a wave. There's a disgruntled half-shout from behind them, then the sound of soft laughter. Liam glances back over his shoulder and Danielle shoots him a quick smile before she's off with her own partner.

 

There's the beginnings of a headache behind his left eye and Liam excuses himself to go lay down for a while. Louis pokes and prods at him in the way that Liam's finally come to realize is the way he shows he's worried. Laughing, Liam manages to actually grab both of Louis's wrists. He beams, awfully proud of himself, and Louis just rolls his eyes. He settles though, looking up at Liam.

"All right, Payner?" The question is so quiet, Liam almost doesn't hear it. Louis's still, in a way that Liam's found is incredibly rare. The skin under his palms is warm. Louis's watching him and Liam realizes he hasn't answered. He nods in response.

"Yeah." He lets go of Louis, dropping his hands down to his sides. "Yeah," he states again, "Just going to take a nap, I think."

Louis nods, glancing down at his watch. "That's a good idea. I've got to, um," he looks back up at Liam, "I'm going to go run an errand, should be back shortly." It's Liam that nods this time.

Neither of them move.

Louis clears his throat and Liam jerks. "Right." The pounding behind his eye ratchets up a notch. "Right, see you when you get back." He turns away, heading for the lift.

 

Leaning back against the wall, Liam closes his eyes. There's only a couple of other people in the lift with him, their conversation loud enough that Liam has to work on not wincing. The whole exchange with Louis's thrown him off, but he can't put a finger on why. The bell dings on his floor and Liam straightens up, opening his eyes as the door opens.

Danielle's standing there and smiles when she recognizes him. She's dressed in casual clothes, her hair down, a mess of curls now that it's free of the plait from earlier on the ice. Liam can't help smiling back.

"Getting out?" she asks, stepping into the lift. She keeps her hand on the doors, tilting her head in question.

"No," Liam decides abruptly. He leans back against the wall and watches her press the button for the bottom floor. "I was thinking of seeing if this hotel had some decent tea." Danielle laughs, settling next to him.

"That's sounds like a great plan." She ducks her head, then looks up at him. She's got a really nice smile. "Mind some company?"

 

They're coming out of the cafe, both laughing hard enough that Danielle's having to lean into Liam's shoulder to keep from falling over, when they literally bump into Louis and Harry.

"Hazza!" Liam grins. Danielle giggles a goodbye at him, says she'll see him later, and then she's off. Liam turns back, still smiling. "Did you just get--"

"I thought you were napping," Louis interrupts. "You should be napping. We have to skate later."

"It's not a big deal, Lou." He glances over. Louis's frowning, staring over Liam's shoulder at where Danielle went. Sighing, Liam reaches out, fingers brushing Louis's elbow. "C'mon now, Dani's aces." She is, too, Liam found. Funny and smart and a bit of a dork like Liam. They'd had a lovely time at tea.

"I'm sure she is," Louis mutters. Frowning, Liam's about to say something else but Harry steps in, asking Liam how his experience has been so far. With a last glance at Louis, Liam turns his attention to Harry. They make their way toward the rooms, Harry keeping up a flow of conversation with Liam the entire time. Louis stays silent, ignoring the two of them and Liam wishes he knew what he done wrong.

When they get to their floor, Liam tries again. "Louis-"

Louis turns and heads down the hall, ignoring him. When he looks at Harry, hoping maybe he knows, all he gets is a pat on the shoulder and a quiet, "I'll take care of it, Li. Go rest up."

Liam watches the two of them disappear into a room at the end of the hall. The taut line of Louis's back clear even from this distance. With a sigh, he turns and makes his way down to his own room.

*

"Seriously?"

Louis shoves a cushion to the side, checking behind it. What he's looking for isn't there and he shoves it back. Harder than necessary, but it feels good. He moves on to the next one, grumbling, "I can't believe him."

He jostles Harry, who's sat on the sofa that Louis's currently searching. Glaring, he tugs at the cushion behind Harry, "He _knows_ he needs to-- damn it, Haz, _move_ \--" Harry leans forward and Louis shoves a hand down to feel around. Still nothing. "He needs to rest."

"We're talking about Liam, right?" Harry drawls, settling back against the couch to watch Louis tear up the sitting room.

Louis's got his arm halfway under the chaise lounge, feeling around. He huffs, like Harry's an idiot. "Of _course_ Liam. Who else would I be talking about?"

Harry shrugs, but Louis can't see him, too busy giving the space under the sofa the same treatment as the chair. "What are you looking for, Lou?" he finally asks, lifting his feet as Louis shuffles sideways.

"My other red Tom," he mutters. Sitting back on his heels, Louis frowns up at Harry. There's a bit of dust on his fringe. "I always wear them to the rink before I skate, but I can't find the other one." He rolls up to his feet easily and starts going back through the cushions.

"We skate tonight." Tossing a cushion on the ground, he continues. "It's his first competition. He needs rest, not to go around with-- with _her_!" Louis throws a cushion this time, clearly frustrated.

"Why don't you wear the blue ones?" Harry asks after a moment's pause. Louis glares at him.

"The blue ones what?"

"The blue Toms," he clarifies, watching Louis carefully.

"I can't wear the blue ones, _Harold_. The red Toms are lucky." Louis grinds his teeth so hard it hurts. "I _need_ the red ones."

They stare at each other, Louis breathing hard, until Harry leans forward and drags a familiar red shoe from under the coffee table in front of the sofa. Louis can feel his right eye twitch. Stiffly, he walks over and reaches out for the shoe. Harry pulls it back, still watching Louis. With a growl, Louis reaches out and snatches it away. Harry doesn't say anything, just watches as Louis wobbles on one leg as he slips the shoe on. It's only as he turns, about to walk away, when Harry stands.

Grabbing Louis's wrist, he tugs him back around. Louis refuses to look up. Instead he stares at the stupid cross necklace that Harry always wears. The tips of his swallows tattoo are peaking out from under the collar of his t-shirt. Louis vaguely thinks about how he knows how that skin tastes, how much Harry loves the endorphin rush of getting tattooed. They've known each other too long really.

"Oh Lou," Harry sighs. Louis resists at first, when Harry pulls him in closer, slipping his arm around Louis's waist, but it doesn't last long. He ends up with his forehead on Harry's shoulder, trying to get air into his lungs.

"Oh, Louis," Harry breathes out again. Louis can feel the press of lips against the top of his head. "We had a good run, didn't we?"

Louis doesn't move for a long time, just curls his hands into the familiar warmth of his best friend and just. Stays still.

 

Louis is a professional, manages to pull his thoughts together enough for them to land decent scores in the short program and by the end of the night they're standing at third.

Exhausted, Louis just wants to sleep but the casual side-eyes he keeps getting from Liam let him know that Liam's not unaware that something is bothering him. He stays close to Louis, not overtly in his space, but near enough that Louis could turn abruptly and they'd collide. He doesn't really say anything to Louis though as they head back to the hotel, doesn't ask what's wrong. Louis can't decide which is worse, the not-asking or the hovering.

"I was _so_ nervous."

Louis fumbles his key card a little when Liam flops back against the wall beside him. Liam rolls his head to look at him when Louis makes a questioning noise. "Nervous," Liam repeats. He looks like he's about to ask what's wrong so Louis beats him to the punch.

"At least you didn't throw up." That earns him a scrunchy disgusted face and it's not cute. At all. Louis finally gets his key card in the stupid slot. "Every time he has to speak in public, Ha--" Louis stumbles over the name, "Harry vomits everywhere."

There's another disgusted face, as well as a fond look at the mention of Harry. They've become disgustingly close in the last few months. Louis doesn't think about how that's going to play out later. He's startled out of his thoughts by Liam's, "Where is Harry, by the way? I don't remember seeing him. He watched us skate, right?"

Louis nods. The light on the door has gone back to red, they've been standing here so long. Pulling it back, Louis tries again. Cracking the door open when the light turns green again, he looks up at Liam. "You should go to bed. Tomorrow's important."

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep," is the response. Louis can feel the energy from Liam; he's practically vibrating with it. Normally, Louis would do something to distract him but Louis is exhausted. He slips into his room, not looking at Liam when he says, "You should try though. I'm sure once you get in bed, you'll pass right out."

There's no answer and Louis finally looks up. Liam's watching him carefully. "Louis-- ?"

"You did really well today, Liam," Louis interrupts quietly. He can't help the small smile when Liam's face lights up at his words. "Now go gets some rest so we can do it again tomorrow, okay?"

After a second, Liam nods. "Okay." He takes a step back, moving toward his own room. He offers a soft, "Sleep well, Lou," before he turns around and heads down the hall. If Louis watches until he's at his door, no one is there to see it.

 

Despite everything, Louis manages to get a good night's rest. He feels sharper the next morning, more on point.

Focused.

Liam manages to catch onto this and by that night, both of them can hardly sit still. He watches Grimmy and Danielle finish and can even impartially admit that they do look good together. The judges like them, a number of point sevens and eights make it obvious.

Louis bites his lip, nervous. He looks over at Liam as the crowd gives another round of applause.

Liam's bouncing on his toes, excited but ready, and it hits Louis then. He wants to give Liam this experience. He's worked hard enough for it, put up with enough of Louis's bullshit in the last year or so. But it's something else, Louis realizes almost immediately after that:

He _wants_ to be on the ice too.

It's been years since Louis felt like skating wasn't a chore, years since he's really, really enjoyed it. But watching Liam grin at the passing flower girls, watching him take in every part of being here, Louis _wants_ to skate. The knot of tension that's been sitting between his shoulder blades dissipates.

Louis reaches over and pinches a nipple and Liam squawks, like he always does, his startled, " _Louis_! drowning out the announcer's voice over the PA as he introduces the next skaters. It's them, of course.

So they skate.

Usually the long skate seems to drag on forever, but they're done before Louis feels like he's taken a breath. Grinning at each other when they finish as the crowd screams its approval. Louis remembers that thrill from years ago, being so young and buoyed up by the sounds of the people that line the arena. When he glances over at Liam, he knows it's the same.

They're grinning stupidly at each other as they make their way off the ice, accepting the standard rose bouquets offered to skaters. Louis's just turned to say something, he's not sure what exactly, when the scores start being read.

It's startling, how fast the expressions play over Liam's face as Louis watches. Excitement to confusion, confusion to disappointment. Liam's eyes lose a bit of focus and Louis knows immediately he's going over their performance in his head, looking for where he messed up, where he could have been better.

Louis wants to wants to reach out and shake him, tell him that it's not anyone's fault. That the judges are fickle even when the audience is booing them. When he finally manages to, brushing his fingers over Liam's arm, he gets shrugged off.

"That's crap," he mutters, voice rough and Louis reaches out again.

"Liam--"

He's off before Louis can say anything else, muttering an apology he doesn't need, and pushing past the curtains back into the waiting area. The flash of cameras light up the scene and Louis remembers where he's at. Pasting a smile on his face, Louis turns to face them.

He and Liam are still in third place by the time the last pair, the Weidermann twins, head out to skate. It's the sugary sweet cutesy kind of routine they're known for, the kind that Louis hates. He's not really paying attention, still worried about Liam and watching him from the corner of his eye, when a roar goes up from the crowd. He snaps his head up, looking at the televisions they've placed in the waiting area. On the screen he can see both skaters struggling up from the ice.

Louis begins looking frantically for Paul. Behind him, he can hear Liam ask, "What's happened?"

Then Paul's there, poking his head through the curtain from the rink, searching for them. Their eyes meet and Paul grins, flashes him a thumbs up.

They're going to the fucking _Olympics_.

*

Liam's never seen Louis this excited. "I'm not really supposed to drink--"

His protest gets waved off even as Louis grins at the bartender, requesting his best tequila. "I looked it up," Louis says, turning toward him. "You can totally drink, Liam Payne, but you're a 80-year old man in--in--" he waves his hand Liam's chest area, "this."

Liam frowns, but Louis ignores that too, beaming at the guy behind the bar as he sets a bottle down on, two shot glasses, and a bowl of lemons. Louis rubs his hand together gleefully and Liam is starting to get a bit wary. "Louis--"

"We're going to the Olympics," Louis says, looking straight at Liam for the first time since they got to the bar. "We're going to the Olympics, Liam. So tonight you are drinking with me."

"Fine," Liam sighs. Louis is the most stubborn person he's ever met and Zayn's pretty damn stubborn. "Only a couple."

Louis grins and hand him a liquid-filled shot glass.

 

There's a flash of brown curls through the crowd and Liam squints. Everything is a bit blurry at this point. Louis's drinking like a man with a mission and Liam should have known that he'd never get away with just a couple shots. At this point, he thinks his tongue might _actually_ be numb. Liam would worry about it, but Louis keeps dragging them both out on the dance floor and he's more concerned that he's sweating out any remaining moisture in his body.

Louis drags him out of the crowd and back toward the bar. It's late now, the room crowded with all the post-competition athletes. Liam knocks into someone and reaches out to apologize when he realizes it's Niall.

"Niall?!?" Liam grins. "What are you doing here?"

"Of course I'm here, Leemo!" Niall shouts, flinging an arm around his shoulder. Beer sloshes down Liam's sleeve, but he doesn't care. Liam didn't think anyone was going to be able to make it and it feels great to see a familiar face. When he looks up, there's another familiar face behind Niall. And Liam's a bit relieved that he wasn't imagining Harry's signature curls earlier. He catches sight of Niall's fingers wrapped around Harry's wrist and frowns.

"Hey," Niall has to half-shout to be heard over the noise of the bar and Liam looks back up, can't help the smile that splits his face when Niall yells, "You're going to the Olympics!" His eyebrows pull together. "Again!"

Liam laughs. Before he can make fun of Niall, Louis appears again, falling into Liam's side. "Liammmmmmm," he whines. "You didn't follow. Your tequila is lonely." He notices Niall, going stiff when his gaze slides past Niall to find Harry. Liam may be drunk, but he knows he's not imagining the wariness in the way that Louis's looking at his boyfriend, the way he moves away from Liam's side the tiniest bit.

Before he can say anything though, Niall's wrapping Louis up in a giant hug. Louis looks a bit overwhelmed and flails a bit before awkwardly patting him on the back. Niall doesn't even notice though, tucking Louis into his side and nattering on at him about the performance, about Liam, about other things Liam can't quite make out. It's Louis's sleeve that's getting the beer treatment now.

Niall pulls them back toward the bar and Liam forgets about the tension under the onslaught of more tequila.

It's not til later, when his vision is even fuzzier, and his tongue is most definitely numb, that he remembers. Liam's half-carrying a drunk Louis and looks over at Harry, to see what he wants to do about Louis. He and Niall are standing close, Harry's hand on Niall's hip, his mouth pressed against a cheek as he says something. Niall laughs, nodding, and Liam knows that look.

"Take me to bed, Li," Louis mumbles, making him look away. Pressing his face in Liam's shoulder, he adds, "Wanna go now."

He wants to ask, wants to press Louis for an answer to what's going on. Before he can though, there's a warm, familiar hand curling around the back of his neck. Harry murmurs, "Take care of him, okay?" and then he's pulling Niall through the crowd and out the door.

Getting Louis into the lift and up to his room is a struggle, Louis not helping at all. "Come on, Lou," Liam says in exasperation as Louis refuses to get his key card out. "You said you wanted to go to bed."

Louis crosses his arms and leans back against the door, lifting his chin. His eyes are bleary, red-rimmed from too much alcohol. Liam sighs. The exertion of the last fifteen minutes has made his head a little more clear at least. "You're five, I swear," he says, then dips his hand into a front pocket, searching for the key.

"Liam Payne!" Louis gasps, giggling as he presses a hand into Liam's chest. "I am _not_ that kind of boy!" Rolling his eyes, Liam tries the other pocket with more success.

The light's green, the door cracked, when Louis adds quietly, "Unless you want me to be."

Liam stumbles, startled at the words, and pushes the door open too fast. Louis yelps, grabbing at Liam. They both go down and somehow,Liam manages to only half land on Louis. Still, they hit the floor hard enough that for a moment Liam can't breathe.

After a minute, Louis starts shaking underneath him and Liam pulls back, about to ask if he's okay, when he sees Louis's face. He's laughing. Liam smiles, but it slips away when Louis keeps laughing. He's got his hands over his face.

Concerned, Liam tugs at a wrist. "Louis?"

"Oh god." He hiccups another giggle and blinks slowly up at Liam. Liam gives him a tentative smile.

"Oh god," Louis repeats. "That is so not how I saw my grand seduction scene going, Liam. I swear."

Liam's not sure he heard right. "What?"

The laughter on Louis's face fades, until he's looking at Liam, face serious. He raises a hand, fingers sliding around the the back of Liam's neck and pressing down the slightest bit. "I asked you to take me to bed, Li." A thumb brushes the curve of his jaw. Liam swallows hard. "And you brought me here."

"I thought you wanted to sleep!"

Louis shifts underneath him, pressing his hips up. "Does this feel like I want to sleep to you?"

Liam has no idea what's going on, doesn't know why Louis's playing this game. He rolls away, starting to get a little angry. "You're drunk," he states firmly as he pushes up off the floor. "You're drunk," Liam repeats. Trying to convince himself, maybe. "And you've obviously had a fight with Harry--"

"Harry and I aren't together anymore," Louis snaps. He's still on the floor, up on his elbows, and glaring at Liam now. It's kind of not fair how good he looks.

"There!" Liam says loudly, waving a hand around. "You're heartbroken, trying to get back at Harry for going off with Niall!"

Louis gives him a hard look, rolls over and shoves himself to his feet. He sways and Liam reaches out to steady him, but Louis bats his hands away. "Harry can fuck anyone he wants to," he grits out, "And if you don't want to sleep with me, just say so. I'm a big boy, Liam. I can take it."

The thing is though, that he doesn't look like he can. And Liam's torn, doesn't want to hurt Louis, but he's unable to take advantage of him either. Especially like this, with too much alcohol and too many unanswered questions.

"You're not thinking clearly, Louis." Liam pleads. "Let's just sit and talk for a bit--"

In front of him, Louis deflates. The anger falls away, replaced by a blank wall that Liam hates. It's old Louis, back at the beginning Louis. The one who wouldn't let him in, the one before easy competition, before movie nights.

"Louis--" he tries again.

Louis turns away instead, leaning against the still-open door. "Go to bed, Liam," he sighs. Liam hates how tired Louis's voice sounds. With a nod, he moves to leave. When he's right in front of Louis though, he can't help but pause, hoping Louis will at least look up at him. He doesn't.

The door barely makes a noise when Louis closes it, but it seems to echo in Liam's head.

 

Liam's not sure how long he stands in the hallway, trying to make sense of what just happened and the sound of the closing door echoing in his ears, when there's a hand on his elbow. He looks up to find Danielle standing there, looking at him with concern.

"Everything okay?" she asks.

He nods, and then finds himself shaking his head instead. That makes the corners of Danielle's mouth curl up. She slips her hand under his elbow and bumps their shoulders. "Need a friend then?"

This time Liam does nod.

They end up sprawled on the ridiculously large sofa in Liam's suite, slumped low and shoulder to shoulder. Danielle's fingers are soothing as they comb through his hair. She hums quietly when Liam mentions Louis's name.

"I just don't know what he wants from me?" Liam grumbles finally.

"Maybe he doesn't even know," she offers after a moment. "You're going to have to talk at some point. _Really_ talk. Relationships take work."

"We're not together." Liam hasn't told her specifically what happened tonight, but he can feel his face heating up when she glances down at him. "Not like that."

"You skate together," Danielle's voice holds a soft reproach. "You're partners on the ice, which means there's a level of emotional connection off the ice as well. _That's_ a relationship." She pauses, then adds, "the fact that you like him outside of skating together only means you'll have to work harder."

Liam's face is definitely red now. He groans, slumping further down into the sofa.

"I've known you for less than two days," Liam groans. "How is that we're sat here like we've been friends for ages?"

"Because I'm awesome," Danielle says immediately, then adds, "and you're a nice guy, Liam. It's really, really hard to meet 'nice' people in this business." There's a note of sadness in her voice and Liam tilts his head back so he can see her face.

"Alright?" he murmurs after a moment. She gives him a small smile, then bops him on the nose.

"I should go," she says instead, "It's late." She moves, like she's going to get up and Liam protests.

"No, no. Don't go yet. Just stay and talk for a little bit longer." He knows he's being whiny, but it's lovely just to sit and talk. To chat with someone and just be _comfortable_ , not worried or tense, not have to think about motivations and feelings.Louis can just be exhausting sometimes, like tonight, and Liam finally feels like head isn't going to spin off.

Liam looks up at her again. "Please?"

"Your face is like a puppy, I swear." Danielle narrows her eyes. "Ugh, fine"

 

Liam wakes up with a splitting headache, grimacing when he opens his eyes. "Too bright," he mumbles and is startled when a voice beside him hums agreement. Rolling over, he finds Danielle blinking blearily at him. She murmurs a good morning with a smile and Liam can't help giving her one back. She's kind of amazing. Liam can remember saying as much to her last night and the way she'd laughed.

There's a vague recollection of being so tired they could both barely keep their eyes open, then stumbling to crash on the bed. He remembers struggling out of his trousers, blushing and giggling as Danielle laughed at his modesty. Laying there, trying to wake up, he remembers how much he misses having someone sleep beside him. Which makes him think immediately of Louis. Which makes him remember the entire reason that Danielle's beside him in the first place.

With a groan, he presses his face back into the pillow.

There's a hand in his hair and a soft laugh. "Up and at 'em," Danielle tells him. "Time to face the music."

Liam refuses to acknowledge her and it earns him another laugh. He can feel the bed shift as she gets up. A second later, the door the bathroom closes.

Rolling over, Liam takes an assessment. Head: hurts. Body: hurts. Heart--

A nice workout should make him feel better. Liam swings his legs off the bed and catches a whiff of himself. Grimacing, he stands up and pulls off his shirt. He's reaching for a pair of jog bottoms left over the back of a chair when there's a knock on the door.

"Just a sec!" he hollers. Snatching the bottoms off the chair, he makes his way over. Behind him he can hear the sink running in the bathroom. Another knock comes, louder and longer, obviously impatient.

Liam frowns, opening the door. "I said just a--"

It's Louis, standing there with a hand up as if to knock again. He's wearing a ridiculously large pair of sunglasses and Liam can tell he's pasty, even though they cover half his face. Liam's about to ask how he's feeling, prepared to just not mention last night at all, when two things happen at once: Louis speaks and Danielle comes out of the toilet.

"Look, Liam. I just wanted to ap--"

"I'd best go fi--"

It's eery, how still everything goes for a split second. And then it's not.

Liam _hates_ that he can't see Louis's eyes. It doesn't matter because his mouth thins out, lips nearly white with pressing together so hard.

"Never mind," Louis spits out, "you're obviously busy." He's turned and headed down the hall before Liam can even get a word out. When he glances back over his shoulder at Danielle, panicked, she just waves a hand at him.

"Go _after_ him!"

"Right, right." He stumbles out the door and realizes after two steps that he's only in his pants. And that's he's shirtless. Up ahead Louis turns the corner for the lifts. Liam tightens his grip on the material in his hand and runs, shouting Louis's name.

To his relief, when he skids around the corner it's to find Louis still there. He's waiting on the lift, glancing over when Liam comes into view. Liam can see him scowl again and reaching out to press the down arrow a few times. Liam's a little out of breath when he gets to him.

"Louis--"

"Puts some damn clothes on." Louis's refusing to look at him, arms crossed over his chest as waits. An older couple appear, the lady gasping a little at Liam's state of undress. He murmurs an apology, then struggles to get them on, hopping on one foot as he tries to get Louis to talk to him.

"It's not what you think--"

"I don't think anything, Liam," Louis interrupts. He's still refusing to look over. "You know why I don't think anything?" Liam opens his mouth to ask, but Louis snaps, "Because I don't care!" He reaches to press the down arrow again.

"I don't think that helps--"

"I don't care who you sleep with because it's not my problem. It doesn't concern me." He finally turns to face Liam. "Because I. Don't. Care." There's a sharp finger in Liam's chest, punctuating each word. Over Louis's shoulder, he can see the older couple whispering to each other, watching. He ignores them, catching Louis's wrist before it drops away.

"You seemed to care a great deal last night," he says quietly. Louis jerks and this close his sunglasses aren't so dark that Liam can't see the flutter of his eyelashes behind the lenses. "When you wanted it to be you."

Louis bites his lip and Liam can't help but drop his gaze to that. He's leaning in without realizing it. "Louis--"

"I was pissed." Louis's voice is just as soft. He pulls his hand away and steps back. The lift pings, the door opening a second later. "Too much tequila," Louis adds, stepping into the lift. "So it doesn't count."

Liam wants to protest, but Louis continues before he can, telling him, "Check out's at noon, the car will be waiting for you." Just as the doors start to close, Liam thinks he hears, "It doesn't matter what I want anyway."

*

There's a couple days at home, with his mum and dad and sisters, that helps. Zayn and Perrie are there, like always, helping his sisters out with the pub, but Niall's notoriously absent. When Liam asks, Zayn just shrugs and says that apparently Niall's keen on someone he met when he went out to watch Liam.

He watches Liam closely each night he's at home, but doesn't try to get Liam to talk. Only raises an eyebrow when Liam asks for a pint, instead of the water he usually drinks.

"Apparently it's okay, long as I take it easy," Liam offers. Zayn nods and heads down the bar to help another customer.

He _does_ feel better at the end of his visit and when Zayn hugs him tight, Liam just gives it back. There's the tears from his mum and Ruth; Nicola swats at his head, but he can see her eyes are a bit wet too. He's made them promise to come to the Games, practically forced his dad to accept the money for the tickets. Liam knows his family though, knows that appealing to the fact that he needs them there -- and he _does_ \-- will always make them cave.

When he finally gets on the plane, Liam thinks he's got his head back in the right space. He hopes.

 

Liam's not quite sure what to expect when he sets foot back in the Tomlinson home. It's not, however, for Louis to come flying into the foyer and shout, "Welcome back, Olympian!" It's definitely not the arm that gets flung around his shoulder or the way that Louis natters on about absolutely nothing as he drags him through the house. It's like the whole scene in Louis's room, the morning after, never happened.

And Liam would think he's gone mad, if not for a few moments every so often. He'll catch Louis unaware, the line of his shoulders tense and exhaustion written all over his face. Those moments only last a second before Louis will see Liam watching him and that happy facade comes back. Louis insists that it's all in Liam's head, but he knows it's not.

And Harry's not around to be a buffer, to get Louis to talk, and that's part of the issue too. It all makes Liam's head hurt.

He wants to ask, wants to know why Louis is doing what he's doing. It's like Louis has a sixth sense though, more likely because Liam telegraphs everything, because he always manages to disappear at those times.

On top of trying to figure this thing with Louis out, they've added a move into the new routine.Louis swears up and down it's illegal, but Paul insists is a grey area, not quite illegal but so close to the line that they can get away with it. Louis scowls but in the end acquiesces.

It's _hard_.

It's the hardest move they've ever worked on and Liam's scared to death that Louis is going to get hurt; that Liam's not strong enough, not good enough, to help make it work. They practice and practice and practice, until Louis can barely stand, until Paul threatens to tie Louis to his bed to rest.

It's almost like Louis is punishing himself, pushing himself to those limits. It worries Liam, and he works harder too, trying to prove to himself that he's capable of being what Louis needs. On the ice, at least.

It does make Liam curious though, and he finds himself watching the recordings from the last Olympics. The one where Louis had fallen. Watching him practice, Liam knows Louis wouldn't make that kind of mistake.

He doesn't notice it at first. It's only on the second run through that he finds it - Louis's foot slipping on Nick's shoulder during their lift pass. Frowning, he leans forward, rewinding it over and over again.

*

Liam's been distracted the last few days, and it's not like Louis hasn't noticed, he has. Liam's pants at trying to hide when something is bothering him. The thing is, Louis is too busy trying to a) get this stupid move down with Liam, b) pretend that everything is normal with Liam after Nationals, and c) ignore the fact that somewhere along the way, he completely _fell in love_ with Liam.

Obviously Liam figures in and so Louis hasn't got the time or energy to figure out why he keeps catching Liam watching him with this -- Louis would nearly describe it as _wounded_ \-- look every time they're not on the ice. Like somehow or another, he's managed to disappoint Liam. Louis's trying so hard to keep his shit together emotionally that he just doesn't have time or mental faculties to push for answers.

It doesn't mean, however, that sometimes Louis doesn't want to turn to him and scream, " _What_? What did I do?" When the urge comes, Louis just pushes himself harder on the ice until the feeling fades away into ache of muscles and the sound of their blades on the ice.

 

In retrospect, as they're standing there waiting to be called to the ice for their short program _at the fucking Olympics_ , Louis should maybe have done.

Liam's collar is buttoned all the way up to his throat and it's annoying Louis. "Loosen your collar," he snaps. Grimmy and Peazer are finishing up, and Louis can't help glaring the tiniest bit as they sweep by, in the middle of their spiral pattern.

"What?" Glancing over, he can see Liam frowning in confusion, brows drawn together.

Turning toward him, Louis says slowly, "Your collar, Liam, loosen it. You look like a bore." He pushes away the twist in his chest when Liam looks a bit hurt. He reaches up to fiddle with the button, frowning harder.

"But I like it this way," he says. Louis grinds his teeth. He's being ridiculous, he _knows_ he is. Still--

"Loosen it."

"No." He's not frowning any longer, to Louis's relief, but the line of his mouth is set. Liam can be stubborn, Louis's learned.

"Unbutton your damn collar, Liam," Louis grinds out.

"No, Louis," Liam tells him, the words firm and low, "I will not. I like it like this."

Louis growls in frustration, a rumbling noise in the back of his throat, and reaches up to undo the button himself. He's barely brushed his fingertips against the silky material before there's an iron grip on his wrists. Startled, he looks up.

Liam's eyes are hard, angry in a way that Louis's never really seen. It makes him swallow. "Stop it."

But Louis can't seem to make his mouth stop moving. "I thought we were about being cool, being hip. It's why we've got these costumes-" he jerks his chin since Liam still has a hold of his wrists, "why we're skating to something that's definitely _not_ Haydn." Liam's just watching him, lips pressed together. "You look-- You look _stuffy_ , all buttoned up like that."

Louis's breathing a little hard. The two of them are pressed together. Louis can feel the burning heat of Liam's skin against his wrists. "Well?" he finally asks when Liam stays silent.

"If this button-" Liam starts; Louis hisses as the grip around his wrists tightens the tiniest bit. "were the only thing left between me and Stedman, right before he slammed me into that wall three years ago--"

"--omlinson and Liam Payne!"

The announcer's voice startles Louis. All the noise surrounding them falls back into his ears at once, overwhelming. He focuses back into Liam, watching his mouth, as the announcer's words echo around them.

"-I'd let him do it all over again." Liam drops his grip on Louis and walks toward the ice.

Technically, their performance is near perfect, but Louis never felt so far away from a partner in his life. Never felt so far away from _Liam_.

*

"This was over a god-damned _button_?" Even Paul looks startled at the information. Louis tucks his chin down and makes his way to his seat. The chef has made up a beautiful set of dishes for dinner, but his stomach turns at the thought of eating.

Liam tries to speak, to explain -- how, Louis's not quite sure since it's mostly his fault -- when Mark continues angrily, "I should have known not to trust you to get this done--"

Louis's head jerks up at that, his own mouth open to defend Liam when Liam snaps, "Trust _me_ to get it done?" He glances over at Louis and in that instant, Louis knows exactly what's been bothering Liam the last few weeks. Why he's been distant and what that stupid look on his face meant.

He knows it's coming, only sits there silent when Liam half-shouts, "How about trusting your own son to get it done? I've seen the footage, Grimshaw wasn't the problem last time!"

"How _dare_ you--"

Louis could almost laugh, at how much offense his step-father's voice carries. It's only now that he cares, when someone's actually point out the truth. "Liam's right."

Louis's never really thought about the saying _you could hear a pin drop_ but in the ensuing stunned silence, he understands it.

"Liam's right," he repeats, straight at his father. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Liam shift, a hand lifting but falling back when Louis continues. "About all of it. All that time, _years_ of hard work and I just. I just let it go."

It feels like his insides are trying to twist their way out of his body. His eyes are burning and Louis doesn't remember wanting to cry this badly since he was ten and watching his mum walk out the door to start a brand new life, without him. Maybe that's it, Louis thinks. Maybe I'm just so silly boy with abandonment issues. It would make him laugh, except for the fact that it was always him. The thing he's never told Liam, how he's the one who turned away every time she reached out, who sounded so cold when she would call. It's a bit terrifying though, how much Louis wants her here right now.

"Why?"

His father's voice cuts through all the noise in Louis's head and he looks up. There's genuine concern weaved through the shock in his eyes. It makes Louis feel even worse.

"That would be the million dollar question, wouldn't?" Louis laughs, although there's no humor in it. "Or the gold medal one, right?"

Both Liam and Paul say his name and he looks back and forth between the two of them, blinking rapidly as they both go a bit wavery in his vision. If it's a night for coming clean, he might as well go full out.

He turns to Paul first, staring at his coach. Paul had been a solid supporter, from the instant he'd walked into the rink. He'd protected Louis, listened to him. _Believed_ in him.

"I've never skated for anyone like I have for you," Louis tells him. "And I want to thank you for that. I know it was never easy, with me." The corners of Paul's mouth tilt up. "So just. Thank you."

Louis takes a breath before turning to look at Liam. When he does, Louis can't almost help wanting to laugh. Liam looks horrified at himself, and Louis knows if he gave him the time, Liam would apologize. Knowing that fact makes Louis's throat tighten up, because it's not Liam's fault that Louis's a fuck-up.

"Louis--"

Liam's voice is quiet and Louis was right, there's a touch of apology underneath the word. It really hits him then, how in love he actually is with Liam. Every stupid bit of him. Louis can hardly breathe with it.

"I kind of made your life a living hell for a bit," he finally starts. Liam shakes his head and that does make Louis smile. "Yeah, I did," he reiterates. "But you showed up and skated every day, regardless. I've never seen anyone work so hard at something before." Louis shakes his head, staring down at his hands. His knuckles are white from the grip he has on the edge of the table. Glancing back up, he offers, "I do apologize, you know."

Liam says his name again, softer this time, but Louis shakes his head again, stopping him. It's getting hard to see again and he blinks rapidly, trying to focus. When he does, it's to his father's face. "You still would have kept me, right?" falls out of his mouth before he can stop it. "If mum had still left? If I hadn't wanted to skate?"

It's surreal, to stand there and watch someone's heart break in front of you, and Louis wants to snatch the question back when his father's face crumples.

"I'm sorry," Louis says immediately. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry." God, he ruins everything. Louis stumbles back from the table, the chair scraping across the floor. It's so hard to breathe. He takes a huge gulp of air, tries to force it into his lungs.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, not looking at anyone in the room. He needs to get out of here. Needs _space_. Straightening up, he takes another breath and says calmly, "If you'll excuse me."

Louis is rather proud of the fact that he doesn't stumble when he leaves the room. It's really hard to see through tears.

 

Liam's not really sure how long he's been walking, but the temperature has dropped and it makes him wish he'd brought a jacket. Thinking about a jacket makes him think about dinner, not that the whole evening hasn't been replaying over and over in his head since he announced he needed some fresh air in the wake of Louis's departure.

Louis's face keeps flashing through his mind; he's never seen Louis that small before. Never seen him so completely vulnerable. Knowing that he's a part of making Louis look that way makes him sick to his stomach a little. He should have just kept his mouth shut, tried to talk to Louis in private. Something, anything that would have kept Louis's eyes from being that sad.

His fingers ache from the cold when he runs a hand over his face, sighing. He wanders around a little more, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He's not ready to go back.

It seems like a sign when he turns a corner to find a little coffee shop open. Through the window Liam can see a handful of people, scattered about the room. They've something in common, it looks to Liam. They're all alone, looking a little bit lost. Like himself. He wants to laugh at his own melancholy but the warmth of the shop rushing over him as he steps through the door washes it away.

The barista takes his order, not saying anything but offering him a small smile when he hands Liam's change back. It's nice.

Liam sits at a table long enough for his fingers to leech all the warmth from his cup, sits there and just thinks about the last few years of his life. He thinks about the loss of one dream and the beginnings of another. And of course he thinks about Louis.

In the end he ends up calling the one person who knows Louis better than anyone. Harry picks up his end of the line with a gravelly, "Liam?" and after a moment's silence where Liam can't actually think of what he wants to say, adds a quiet, "Everything okay?"

Liam laughs, but it turns ragged. He finally manages to get out a, "Not really, mate. Not really at all."

"Is- Is Louis okay?" Liam can hear the rustle as Harry shifts on the other line, hears the murmur of a voice in the background.

"Say hello to Niall for me, yeah?" he says and Harry sighs.

"Liam."

God, he's tired. Just. Fucking exhausted. He really, really wants the image of Louis's face to quit popping up in his head, doesn't want to see how he'd looked right before turning and walking away. Liam rubs his chest, trying to see if that helps the ache dissipate.

It doesn't. And he's still got Harry in his ear, asking him if Louis's okay.

"Depends on your definition of okay," Liam finally responds. When Harry says his name this time, the word is harder, impatient.

"He's fine," Liam tells him. "We just. We had an argument before the skate tonight and we did-- we did well enough. But later, at dinner, there was a lot of yelling. A lot of accusations thrown around." Wincing at the memory of those words coming out of his mouth, Liam stops, digging his teeth into his lip. Like hurting himself will be some kind of recompense.

Harry waits, breath steady on the other end of the call, as Liam tries to figure out what to say.

I've just never-" he swallows, tries again. "I've just never seen Louis look like that before."

"Here's the thing when it comes to Louis," Harry's voice is low when it finally comes, and quieter than usual. It forces Liam to press the mobile harder against his ear, like that will help, in order to hear him. Maybe that's the point. "Louis expects to be disappointed. It's why he keeps everything away with words. You've seen that."

Liam nods, even thought Harry can't see him. "But he's not like that, not really. You know this. I've seen you two. Louis cares a lot. _Too_ much actually." There's a pause. "You know he sends gifts to Jay and the girls all the time, right? He sends them but won't speak to them because he's afraid they won't love him back. Which is stupid because anyone who doesn't love Louis doesn't deserve his love." Harry pauses, like he expects Liam to say something. Sighing, he goes on.

"So Louis creates this wall between him and the world, in order to protect himself. In all the years I've known him, I'm the only person he's really let in. And I love him, always will. But we're too good of friends to ever be a grand epic romance. Louis needs something more than I could ever be for him. I've always wondered what it'd be like if Louis really fell. I should have known he'd fight it though." Harry says the last bit almost to himself. "I thought if I left, it might make him realize, maybe act on it. Should have known better really. Louis likes his walls."

Liam frowns, something hits him. "Are you saying it's me?" he asks and Harry grumbles.

"You're both blind, I swear."

"You think Louis is in love with me?" Liam asks again.

"Liam, " Harry's voice is exasperated, "have you not listened to anything I've said? Louis wouldn't be falling apart if it didn't really matter, okay? If he couldn't keep all that behind his stupid wall."

"So that's a yes?"

" _Liam_."

"Sorry, sorry," he gasps. "it's just a lot to take in. I kind of thought it was just me," slips out before he thinks. He realizes it's true though, thinking about the last year or so. Liam sits up straight.

He's in love with Louis.

He doesn't realize he's said the words out loud until he hears Harry's exasperated, "I'm surrounded by idiots." In the background, Liam can hear Niall's disgruntled half-shout.

Liam grins. He's in love with Louis. It kind of changes everything.

"Harry," he interrupts the mumbled conversation on the other end of the line, "Harry, can you help me with something?"

 

The next morning, Liam heads downstairs. He's feeling pretty great, even slides the last couple feet down the banister. When he lands, he's immediately faced with a set of luggage. It looks very familiar. Liam's stomach sinks.

It drops even further when Louis walks into the foyer, placing a grey coat over the top of the bags. He looks startled to see Liam.

"What's going on?"

Louis smiles up at him, then drops his chin and starts fussing with the coat. Smoothing a hand over the fabric, he tells Liam, "I'm just heading over to the arena early. Don't worry though, there'll be a car for you when you're ready to go."

Shaking his head, Liam waves a hand. "But what is this? Why--"

"I'm heading straight home after we're done skating." Liam's about to protest when Louis says abruptly, "I'm retiring." He still looking down and Liam watches his fingers twitch before Louis curls them up into fists. He presses them out a second later, splayed across his thighs. He finally looks up again.

"Today is my last skate."

The sunlight in the foyer makes Louis's eyes strikingly clear blue, like glass. And he looks like he'd shatter, standing there, but Liam's thinks he's the one that's going to break. He reaches out and Louis steps back before contact is made. "Don't worry," he tells Liam. "You're an excellent skater--" the corner of his mouth quirks up, "for a hockey player."

Liam wants to make his feet move, but they're stuck. All he can do is watch as Louis tugs his jumper down and adds, "You won't have any trouble finding another partner, Liam. I'm sure of that." He looks like he's waiting for Liam to say something and Liam wants to, wants to shout at Louis. Shake him until he's done talking about this nonsense. Until he's stopped breaking Liam's heart.

All he does though, is stand like an idiot as Louis gives him a nod and then walks out the front door.

*

Louis can feel Liam's eyes on him but every time he glances over, Liam looks away. He seems nervous. "Just breathe," Louis says. Liam's head jerks around.

"What?"

He goes for a reassuring smile but isn't sure how on the mark it is. "It's an extra 120 seconds; we've done it before." Which, technically they have, just never with the new move. Louis might be getting nervous himself now. When he adds, "We've got this," it's probably as much for him as it is for Liam.

Speaking of Liam, he looks confused for a moment. His face clears and he just gives a half-laugh. "Right, right," then looks away again. It's only minutes before they're on the ice - _for the last time_ whispers through Louis's head - and they're heading toward the waiting area. Louis's stomach is in knots.

Right before they go through the curtain separating the back area, Liam grabs Louis's wrist. "I'm sorry," he blurts. Louis's pushed through, a "what?" on his lips when the crowd's voices surge as the current skaters finish. Somehow, in all that noise, he hears a voice call his name. Several voices actually, but one of them he thinks he'd know anywhere, even after years of not hearing it every day.

Louis snaps his head around, searching. He can hear Liam, but the words aren't filtering in as he finally finds her in the crowd. She looks the same, a little softer, but the lines of her face are the ones Louis tried to make himself forget. She looks so _proud_ of him that Louis can't breathe for a moment.

She bends down, pointing toward him, smiling as she points him out to the girls beside her. And god, the twins are _so_ big now. Which means --

Lottie looks like she'd rather be any where else in the world, her arms crossed as she stands there next to Jay. But even from here, Louis can see she's trying not to cry. Her chin still wobbles and Louis is suddenly having to blink back his own tears. An arm wraps around Lottie's shoulder, and Louis's gaze shifts to find Fizzy watching him. She was too young to really remember him, he knows, but she gives him soft smile before turning to whisper something in her sister's ear.

When he turns back to Liam it's to find him watching Louis with wide, nervous eyes.

"How-?" Louis manages to get out before Liam starts apologizing. Louis holds a hand up and stops him. "I'm not mad, Li, just. Surprised."

"It's a good surprise, right?" Liam's eyebrows are so scrunched together that Louis's worried it hurts. He glances back over; Daisy's waving now and he waves back with a startled laugh. He catches his mum's eyes and Louis knew he missed her, always really, despite how angry at her he knows he's been. He has to turn back to Liam before they're both a mess.

He smiles. "It's a great surprise."

 

They're waiting for the ice to be cleared of flowers and other items that have been thrown out. Louis can't stop himself from glancing over to the girls and his mom, but he still notices that despite his assurances, Liam can't quite settle; he seems more nervous than he should be. After the fourth time Liam knocks into him while shifting from one foot to the other, Louis grabs his elbow.

"Be. Still." Liam looks chagrined, and Louis shakes his head. That's when he notices that Liam's collar is loose, the first button undone. A wave of fondness rolls over him.

"You look ridiculous." Louis reaches up to fix the button. Liam is fidgeting, won't stop bouncing on his toes. He's gnawing on his bottom lip. Finally, after the third try, Louis says in exasperation, "What is _up_ with you?"

Louis barely pays attention to the attendant who comes up to tell them that they have two minutes. He just keeps staring up at Liam, watching as Liam opens and closes his mouth. It's starting to worry him. "Liam?"

Liam takes a deep breath, his shoulders settling as he visibly focuses himself. "Here's the thing," he starts, but gets interrupted again with their one minute warning. Frustration pulls his brows together and Louis almost smiles.

"Here's the thing," Liam finally says to him. "I don't want another partner, Louis. I don't want to skate with anyone but you."

Louis swallows hard. It feels like his heart's about to beat out of his chest. The attendant is trying to get their attention; over the PA system, he can hear their names being called. There's another tug on Liam's elbow and he turns to snap at her, "Give me a minute!"

It's the first time Louis ever seen Liam be rude. He probably shouldn't find it as hot as he does. Still, when Liam looks back at him, Louis's breath catches.

"I don't want to skate if it's not with you," Liam tells him again.

Louis finally manages to choke out a strangled, "Why?"

The lines of Liam's face soften at his question and Louis wants to touch him _so_ much right then, but he keeps his hands to himself. Waits for the answer.

"Because I love you, Louis William Tomlinson. Because I'm _in_ love with you." Louis watches Liam's birthmark as he swallows. It's like white noise inside Louis's head, Liam's words lost in the buzz.

He probably looks like an idiot, standing there with his mouth open. The attendant is hovering, worried. Louis could care less.

Their names are called out over the PA system again and Louis blinks, the regular noises of the arena crashing back into his ears. Grabbing Liam's wrist, he starts moving them toward the ice.

"Louis, did you hear--"

Louis tugs harder and Liam stumbles a bit as they step out onto the ice, but he follows. As they settle into their starting positions, Louis looks toward that spot in the crowd one more time. A tall, familiar figure is standing next to Jay. She looks a little dazed as he talks to her. It all kind of hits Louis then, as the music starts up, everything whirling around in his brain. It all settles on one thing: Liam's in love with him.

He looks over at Liam, grinning. Liam smiles back without hesitation.

*

When they're done, both trying to catch their breaths, Louis doesn't think he's ever skated so well in his life. Or had so much fun. It doesn't really matter because Louis blurts out, "I love you, too" and the smile Liam gives back is so bright that Louis can't see anything else.

"Just remember who said it first," Liam smirks at him and Louis bursts out laughing. He reaches out, twisting one of Liam's nipples and gets a hand wrapped around his wrist as usual. It pulls him in closer, Liam's wounded, "We're at the _Olympics_ , Louis," just means that he's smiling when he presses his lips to Liam's.

The crowd goes wild.

**Author's Note:**

> The thing with writing a fic based off of a movie is how does one go about doing it? Should it be a direct correlation? Should it just be a mild interpretation of the film? I have to admit I struggled with that part a bit because yeah, I _could_ do a direct run of the movie and just let it be. The story's there already right? The thing is, that no matter how much I love this movie - and goodness knows, I _do_ \- I have a bit of a problem reconciling Liam as the totally snarky, full of himself that makes a large chunk of Doug Dorsey's personality. And yes, I can more easily see Louis being the snobby, sarcastic Kate Moseley. Still neither of these boys fits perfectly into those roles, so the challenge became how to integrate their personalities (as we see them anyway) into these characters. This means that while a lot of this fic takes scene flow directly from the movie, certain motivations and reactions are different. Hopefully when you read it, you'll think it's for the better. If not, thank you for taking the time to read it.  <3


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